


Things We Can't Untie

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Series: Things We Can't Untie [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bathing/Washing, Beating, Blow Jobs, M/M, Massage, Rape, Rape Recovery, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2010 J2 Big Bang. Slavery!AU.</p><p>Jensen Ackles thinks he's prepared for his new job, training political prisoners as sex slaves for the wealthy elite. But when he meets his first client, a gorgeous, intriguing kid named Jared, his own doubts about his profession begin to catch up with him. Soon, he's developing a disconcerting attachment to Jared, and struggling with the full implications of his career.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A complete amalgamation of lies, lies, fiction, and more lies. (And smut.) I own nothing, make no money, and mean no harm.
> 
> Strong warnings for slavery, non-con, dub-con, beating, spanking, morally reprehensible characters, perennially angst-ridden characters, more porn than plot, popsicle porn, and language.
> 
> http://magellanflies.livejournal.com/18225.html -> original BB masterpost with links to artwork, &c.

_But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie...  
-Leonard Cohen_

_November 7th, 2069_

Jensen is fourteen at his first hearing. He’s pulled out of school in the middle of gym class; they don’t even let him change back into his uniform. He stares down at his long, pale legs in the athletic shorts, at the scuffed sneakers he’s tapping gently against the floor. He’s a bundle of pent-up nervous energy. Because he’s not stupid. He’s grown up a lot in the last eight years or so, and he knows that people who get arrested usually don’t come back. Not when they don’t even give you time to put on your clothes before they drag you to the courthouse.

He’s looked around for his parents, sure. That’s the first thing he does. They’re nowhere in sight, and that’s a very bad sign. If he’d been picked up in connection with vandalism, petty theft, even murder or some scary-ass shit like that, his parents would be notified. He’s a minor. He’s in their care. _Was_ in their care.

The door to the chamber opens, and he rises obediently, his feet carrying him forward even as he stares at the ground. Because, okay, he’s been trying to breathe, to get a fucking grip, for Chrissake, but he’s way too freaked out.

He doesn’t know what to expect. The hearings aren’t televised. There’s no trial by a jury of your peers for a case like this. You don’t know what it’s like till you live it.

“Are you Jensen Ross Ackles of Richardson, Texas?” asks the man behind the desk.

“Yes, sir.” Jensen tries his best to sound respectful, but not grovel. To look curious, but not suspicious. He’s sure he’s failing miserably.

The man nods. “How old are you, son?” he asks.

“Fourteen, sir.” The questions get harder after that.

Jensen sits and answers the questions, neck stiff from looking the man in the eye, afraid that dropping his gaze will be taken as a sign of guilt. _What does he think of Dawn Ostroff?_

“She’s tough on terror.” The phrase comes out of his mouth automatically, imprinted in his brain from all the television ads since her first term when he was six years old. He quickly amends the answer: “She’s a good president, keeps us safe. She’s… a good role model for young girls?”

The man doesn’t smile before moving on. _Has he ever entertained any thoughts against the government? Has he ever heard his parents criticize the government? What does he know about_ The Patriot _?_

Jensen knows about _The Patriot._ It’s the newspaper passed around underground to dissenters. But he can’t remember whether or not he’s supposed to know this. He settles for a confused, “The what?”

“The newspaper, _The Patriot.”_ ”

He shrugs. “We take _The Citizen_.” Like every good American. It seems to go over well.

Finally the man nods and turns off the video camera that’s been focused on the interrogation. He looks at Jensen, and if Jensen had to name the look in his eyes, it would be _pity._

“Your parents were arrested this morning on suspicion of treason,” he says. “Given the weight of the evidence against them, they confessed quickly, and they’ve been assigned to rehabilitation facilities.” Jensen had guessed as much. “They testified that you were unaware of their involvement in the Anarchist Resistance, and preliminary questioning appears to confirm this. You’ll be kept under observation until the tapes are reviewed, and you may be called in for further questioning.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen says awkwardly, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man gives a curt nod to the bailiff—that’s the name he couldn’t remember earlier—and Jensen is led out of the small room, out of the courthouse, back into the car that picked him up and finally into a house “for detainees.”

He’s given a cot with a flat pillow and a set of clothes that aren’t his. A toothbrush and the name of the housekeeper. _Warden,_ he thinks.

When they leave him, he sits on the cot, numb at first. He tries to process. The man at the courthouse thought he was innocent, he knows. But it doesn’t stop there. The interrogation is replayed for God knows how many people, all watching as he flubs the newspaper question and flinches at the word “anarchy,” because that’s not what his parents believe in. Believed in. They called themselves Democratic Republicans.

And thinking about his parents does finally make Jensen cry. He buries his face in his arms and sobs, all the fear and _loneliness_ hitting him like a knee to the groin.

His tears start out sad and scared and then turn angry, because seriously, what the fuck? He’s fourteen years old, and he shouldn’t be worrying about whether or not he betrayed the Resistance, his parents, himself. It’s not _fair._ And the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets. At his parents for doing this to him, screwing up his entire life for their crusade. At the fucking Resistance movement for causing trouble instead of shutting up and taking it. At himself, a little, because deep down he knows that’s exactly what the government wants him to think.

Over the next two days, he has a lot of time to think. If someone down the line doesn’t think he’s as clueless as he tried to be, he’ll be going the way of his parents. He tries not to think about that, but he doesn’t really have a lot of distractions to take his mind off it right now, and he’s not sure that they would work anyway.

After going through a rehabilitation program, you get an “internship” with a Model Citizen, learning how to contribute to society again, be a hard-working civilian who professes ultimate loyalty to President Ostroff and everything she stands for. Only everybody knows it doesn’t really work that way. Because as an intern, you’re legally in the care of your very own Model Citizen. You’re property.

To most fourteen-year-old boys, the idea is both hilarious and exhilarating. They joke about growing up, someday getting enough money to take on an intern, some pretty little blonde with cocksucker lips who’s completely in their power. Sure, they’ll be rich enough to have other interns in their thousand-room mansions. A gardener, a butler who answers to Jeeves, no matter what his name is. But they focus on the sex slaves.

Jensen’s joined in, of course. He couldn’t risk giving himself away. And hell, if he’s being honest, maybe once or twice he’s jerked off to the thought of some pretty kid who’s all his to fuck, gorgeous and obedient and always available. Because it’s a hot _fantasy,_ he always reminds himself, guilt curling in his stomach. He wouldn’t actually do it, no matter how fucking hot it would be, he tells himself. Not even if he had a pretty boy with dark hair and big eyes, and…

Jensen knows the laws as well as anyone. You have to be at least sixteen to be trained as a “personal intern.” Sex slave. But Jensen’s parents have taught him that paperwork gets lost, rules get broken, and interns never do actually return to society. And he knows he’s pretty enough himself, with his long hair and eyelashes and, yeah, cocksucker lips.

He tells himself he’s thinking of worst-case scenarios, but he can’t stop doing it. Replaying his answers to the questions, looking for weaknesses. He wonders if his parents are okay, if he’ll ever see them again. He knows the answer to the second question is ‘no,’ but his mind doesn’t stop coming up with elaborate fantasies where somehow, ten years down the line, he sees his father at a bus station or his mother in the supermarket, and they hug and cry and everything’s okay again.

At least that’s better than when his mind plays out the image of Jensen kneeling at the feet of some nameless man, unzipping his fly, and…

He can’t think past that without getting sick.

After two days, the housekeeper comes to get him. “You’re innocent, baby,” she says, and he’s so glad, so fucking relieved that he laughs out loud. “They’re here to take you home.”

 _Home?_ Jensen doesn’t know where that could possibly be—some group home for the children of traitors, maybe? But when he follows her downstairs he sees his godfather. Jensen hasn’t seen Jeff since he was nine or ten, the last time Jeff argued politics with his parents and they told him to get out and stay out. He’s pretty sure he’s never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

“Hey, kid,” Jeff says, the same nicotine drawl that Jensen suddenly remembers from summers growing up. “You okay coming with me?”

Jensen bites his lip to keep it from trembling as he nods his assent.

Jeff smiles. “Good boy. I’ve got some of your things in the truck.” He hands the housekeeper an envelope and holds the front door open for Jensen.

As Jensen clambers into the cab of the pickup, Jeff touches his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, Jensen,” he says. He ignores the opportunity to say ‘but they asked for it,’ or ‘I warned them.’ Instead, his words are “I’m glad you’re coming home with me.”

Jensen gives in then. He’d thought that he’d used up all his tears the last two days, but a little sympathy brought them all up again. “I was so—so scared,” he sobs, and Jeff rubs his shoulder gently, letting him cry.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I know.”

\---

_March 3rd, 2073_

Jensen is eighteen at his second hearing, where he swears up and down that the train ticket to Vancouver was just because he wanted to see the world as a celebration of his eighteenth birthday and couldn’t afford a plane ticket to Europe. He should have known that he’d still be in the system, alerting the watchful eyes and ears of Dawn Ostroff to any suspicious movements.

In the end, it’s probably the fact that he returned the ticket half an hour after buying it that saves his ass. “I figured maybe I could get Jeff to take me to Europe,” he lies. And the questioners figure that even if he was plotting an escape to Canada to seek asylum and galvanize the opposition, he chickened out.

Which is the truth.

Jeff picks him up again, and this time he’s not happy at all. “I hope you realize how much danger you put both of us in,” he says, “and how many favors I had to call in to get you out of there.”

Jensen shrugs. “I just wanted to see Canada,” he says weakly, and Jeff gives him a withering glare.

His voice is cold but controlled, calm. “I don’t think you appreciate my position, Jensen,” he says. “I’m responsible for you.”

“I’m eighteen,” Jensen says flatly.

“And the son of two traitors. I spoke for you, I took on responsibility for your actions. You could have seriously jeopardized everything I’ve been working for.”

“I bet you wish you’d made a different decision,” Jensen snarls, no longer worried about upsetting Jeff or keeping the peace. “You probably could have gotten me cheap, since you were responsible for me either way. Trained me up as a gardener or a chef or a fucking personal intern for less effort.”

Jeff looks hurt, like he didn’t see it coming. Like he doesn’t deserve for Jensen to think he would do that. “You’re my godson, Jensen,” he says simply. “And you’re like a son to me. I care about you.”

“Because you’re an _enlightened_ despot,” Jensen spits out.

Jeff doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his hands tighten around the steering wheel as he responds. “Alexis de Tocqueville called the beauty of this country enlightened self-interest. It’s capitalism in its purest form: learning to survive and thrive in an uncertain climate. I won’t have you jeopardizing my life, Jensen. You can call me a despot, but as I see it, I do more good by making my own small contributions to help people within our current system than your parents ever did fighting it.”

It’s a low blow, and Jeff knows it. Jensen feels pure rage running through his veins, freezing him in place, turning his vision white. His _parents_.

“How… how…” he starts, but he finds he can’t even finish his sentence. He’s choking on an anger that threatens to come out as one ear-splitting scream, and he doesn’t want to give Jeff the satisfaction of watching him fall apart.

Jeff fixes him with a glare. “You still don’t get it, do you, Jensen? This isn’t something that’s in the past. If you get any more ideas about running off to Canada, cause any more trouble… all it takes is one wrong move and you’ll be in rehab before you know what hit you. I’ve spoken for you twice, and I can’t do it again. You understand me?”

Jensen’s jaw clenches angrily, but Jeff’s calm statement has helped his head clear some. Jeff watches him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a response.

“Yes, sir,” Jensen says finally. “And you don’t need to threaten me, anyway. If I had the guts to get out of this shithole dictatorship, I would have done it already.”

“I trust you not to repeat that in public.” There’s a long, stubborn silence before Jeff realizes Jensen isn’t going to promise him anything.

“I’ve spoken extensively with my attorneys. They’ve told me that the best way for you to prove your… _dedication_ to the country is to attend a government-sponsored school in the fall.”

“And what am I allowed to study? The citizen’s guide to civil liberties regarded as treason?” Jensen asks sarcastically.

“I thought maybe a hands-on vocational school,” Jeff says. “For personal trainers.”

Jensen gets a rush at the thought. For one split second his cock twitches and he remembers being fourteen years old and laughing about it at school, thinks about his hands running over smooth skin. He feels sick when he realizes what he’s doing, too late.

\---

He packs a duffel bag half a dozen times before August, planning his escape. He’ll hitch a ride to Mexico, or walk if he has to. But every time, the futility of it hits him. He knows what could happen, and he unpacks everything again - his change of clothes, life savings that couldn’t even get him to the border, the lone back issue of _The Patriot_ found in a dumpster last May.

He burns the paper before he leaves for school, afraid someone will find it if he leaves it, afraid of losing it if he takes it with him. His heart’s in his throat as the flames dance across the newsprint, held over a sink in case things get out of control. It feels like a betrayal when the paper darkens and crumples and finally washes down the drain, gray ash smearing across the ceramic.

“I’m not giving in,” he thinks. “I’m not turning into Jeff.” But he knows it’s a lie. He’s not strong like his parents. He doesn’t even know where to turn in this city anymore. Couldn’t find a way to join the Resistance if he tried. And if he’s not going anywhere (and he’s not)… he might as well be like Jeff, or like Jeff pretends to be. Try to bring some sympathy into the system.

At the end of the day, he reflects, not without a hefty dose of cynicism, it’s screw or get screwed.


	2. Chapter One

_October 26th, 2076_

Jensen’s been over the mechanics of this a hundred times or more over the past few years, but that doesn’t make the prospect of flying solo any easier.

His ID scans through at the door without any problems, and he tries to look confident, capable, older than 21 as he enters the building, dressed entirely in black. Professional. It’s a secure facility, about an hour outside of Richardson, the only one in the state specifically licensed for personal training.

There’s a slim brunette seated on the desk chatting with the receptionist, and when she sees him she breaks into a big smile and hops down to the floor.

“You must be Jensen,” she says warmly. “I’m Danneel, I’ll be showing you around and being your buddy while you get used to the way things work around here.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it somewhat gratefully. “It’s good to meet you,” he says.

“Awww, look at that, he’s early for work, so polite, and completely adorable,” the receptionist says. She’s a blonde, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a mischievous smile on her face. “I call dibs.”

Danneel smirks. “Sorry, doll, but I don’t think he swings your way. You’re working with the men, right?”

Jensen’s a little relieved that she said men and not boys, even as he’s terrified that he’ll be training men who are older, taller, stronger than he is. He smiles in what he hopes is an apologetic manner. “That’s right,” he says, glancing down at the name on the desk. “Alona?”

“Alona’s an absolute treasure,” Danneel says. “But it’s a good thing you’re early, sweetie, because the client’s going to be here in half an hour and we really ought show you your office and introduce you to the staff first…. Jensen’s bringing in a new client for us – Jeffrey Dean Morgan,” she says as an aside to Alona, and Jensen can see the receptionist’s eyes widen at his guardian’s name.

“Just tell me where I need to go,” Jensen says as smoothly as possible, trying to deflect the conversation from Jeff.

“No problem,” Danneel smiles. “Follow me, we’ll go on a quick tour.” She turns to head down the hallway, and Jensen shoots another smile at Alona.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, still trying for professional, and she smiles back.

“You too, Jensen,” she says, giving a cute little wave as he turns to follow Danneel.

He isn’t sure what to make of any of it, so he tries to make conversation. “So are you a trainer here?” he asks. “You don’t seem nearly old enough.”

Danneel laughs at that. “You don’t have to butter me up, sweetheart,” she says. “I know I look good. In all seriousness though, I graduated high school at sixteen. I’ll have been working here for two years in January.”

He nods. “So… did you always want to be a personal trainer?”

Danneel laughs again. She’s so laid-back and cheerful that he’s having trouble reconciling her attitude with her job in his mind. “Well, you know, there aren’t many female trainers, and there’s a lot of demand,” she says frankly. “So I was pretty heavily recruited, and, well, who wouldn’t love to get paid for fucking?”

That’s one way of putting it. Usually trainers steer away from the more obvious implications of the job – some sort of courtesy. “Oh, and doll, we’re making a left here to head to your office. If you make a right, it takes you to the gym. You’ll be able to work out there whenever you want – take the intern too if you think he could use the exercise – but I want to show you where you’ll be working first. You should drop by later to meet Chris. He manages the gym and he’s an absolute darling.”

Jensen turns left down another institutional corridor, craning his head to the right to look at the gym, and almost runs into Danneel when she stops abruptly in front of a door. They already have a nameplate up: J. Ackles, black letters on gold. It looks like the professional he’s imagined himself pretending to be so many times before.

“Here’s your key, sweetie,” Danneel says, unhooking it from her own ring and handing it to him. “I’ve got one too since I’ll be your buddy for the first few weeks, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I’m going to drop in on you, especially if you’re training.” She winks at him.

He looks down, blushing as she unlocks the door. “There we are,” she says with satisfaction, walking in.

The room is large and open, with windows facing an interior courtyard and letting in a truly glaring light. His desk is at one end, with two chairs in front of it, like a principal’s office, or a shrink’s. Cabinets line the other end of the room, with some folding mats discreetly stacked in the corner.

“Most of what you’ll need is right here,” Danneel says, gesturing. “Lube, lotion, extra cuffs, and some toys in the cabinets. If you need anything heavier, there are restraints and some other more persuasive tools in the desk, but that hasn’t been necessary in the time I’ve been here, and I’m sure you won’t have to resort to that. If things get out of hand in the first few weeks, that’s why I’m here, or you can call the guards.”

Jensen decides he likes Danneel. She’s all business, making it clear what is and isn’t acceptable practice. All her flirting has fallen off as she shows him around.

“And the hand towels by the sink are changed daily,” she finishes. “Of course, we have a bath for all related training, just down the hall, if you’d like to see it.” She glances down at her watch. “We should have enough time before your first appointment.”

“Will you be sitting in on the intake?” Jensen asks her as she leads him back out into the hallway.

“For part of it, sure,” Danneel says. “I’ll be there for the introduction, but don’t worry. I won’t be stepping on your toes. If everything is going well I’ll leave when Mr. Morgan does, and you can go through the records on your own. We’re really looking for you to be the main trainer. I’m here to support you, and to step in as the bad cop if you need me to.”

He laughs at that, a little surprised, and she grins. “Don’t think I can do it, huh?”

“You don’t seem the type,” he admits.

“We all have an inner dominatrix,” Danneel says, and Jensen gets that familiar chill down his spine. In school, and on paper, there’s a veneer of respectability to his job. It always jolts him to hear it described so crudely. So _accurately,_ the voice in his head whispers. He ignores it.

The baths are beautiful: freestanding tubs stocked with all kinds of products. Shampoo, scented oils, even bubble mixture, as Danneel points out with a playful smile. The room is quiet, the windows higher and the light softer. Jensen can feel himself relaxing almost unconsciously, some of the nervous tension leaving his shoulders.

“This place has great Feng Shui,” Danneel says simply. “To tell you the truth, I come in here a lot, even when I’m not working on bathing. It relaxes people. Makes them mellow.”

“I can see that, yeah,” Jensen says. He takes a deep breath, straightens. “I should probably get back to the office – get ready for my first day on the job.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Danneel agrees, and they walk out together. Jensen can see the gym at the other end of the hall, and makes a note that he’ll definitely be paying it a visit later on.

He’s played this scene in his mind a dozen times since getting the call from Jeff, but he knows it’s still going to be different from everything his imagination has produced. Jeff offered to let him pick out the boy – the _intern_ – but that seemed like too much. It already makes him uneasy, knowing that in all likelihood his godfather bought him his first job, and it’s even stranger when he thinks about Jeff using a boy he’s trained.

This is the true test of professionalism.

He sits behind the desk, runs his hands over the smooth wood. Danneel perches lightly on one of the chairs in front of the desk, smiling encouragingly.

“So what about you, Jensen?” she asks. “What’s your story?”

He grins. “What, my life story? Pretty boring.”

She shrugs. “Fresh out of school and you already have Jeffrey Dean Morgan as a client. I’d say you have a story or two.”

“He’s an old friend of the family,” Jensen says. “I think he wanted to support me. You know. He has the resources.”

“Friend of your parents?” she asks.

Jensen shrugs. “Yeah. Yeah, an old student of my dad’s, actually. He was a professor at the university.”

Danneel doesn’t ask him any more questions about that, and he’s grateful. The past tense verb could mean a few things, most of them negative. And even though he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Danneel knows his family history, she’s delicate enough not to bring it up.

“So did you always want to be a trainer?” she asks, repeating his question from earlier.

Jensen grins, even though his heart isn’t in it. “Oh, you know how guys are,” he says, and she bursts out laughing, like he thought she would.

He does like her, and he’s glad he can make her laugh, but he’s still relieved when the intercom buzzes.

“Mr. Morgan and the intern have arrived, Mr. Ackles,” Alona says, all business now, and Jensen steels himself and clears his throat.

“Send them right in,” he says. Danneel gives him one more encouraging smile before her face sets in neutral. She’s good.

Jensen picks up a pen and stares down at his desk, ready to look busy when they enter. He can sense Danneel trying not to grin.

Jeff looks good, like he hasn’t aged a day. But then he can afford the best, like the boy on the other end of the leash he’s holding. And damn, let it never be said that Jeffrey Dean Morgan doesn’t know how to pick them. Jensen’s pretty sure the intern was selected based on his personal tastes, and he still can’t decide whether that’s flattering or disturbing, but at any rate, the job was spot-on.

The kid is tall, and even younger than Jensen had imagined when Jeff called him a “nice boy.” He stumbles a little on the end of the leash, balance thrown off by the leather strap cuffing his hands behind his back. Jensen can’t get a good look at his face, hidden behind long bangs and pointing at the floor the way he’s undoubtedly been told, but what he can see, even through the regulation sweats, he likes. Probably more than he should, but at least he can honestly say he’ll enjoy this job. In fact, this might just do wonders for his work ethic.

“Mr. Morgan,” he says, nodding. Jeff shifts his briefcase from his right hand to his left – the same one holding the leash – in order to shake Jensen’s hand. They’re going through the motions, and he’s not sure whether it’s for Danneel, the intern, or himself.

“Mr. Ackles. It’s a nice space you have here.” He turns to Danneel. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

She rises to shake his hand. “Danneel Harris, Mr. Morgan. I’m another trainer here at the facility, just sitting in and observing the intake session.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Jeff says sincerely, and Jensen can’t help but think that if Jeff didn’t have an intern in one hand he’d be eying Danneel even more closely. She’s more his type, that’s for sure, and he still isn’t entirely sure what Jeff plans to do with the intern once he’s suitably trained.

Jensen gestures to the empty chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Jeff sits down, nodding graciously, and the kid stands beside his chair, sitting down on the floor only when a quick jerk of the leash catches him by surprise.

“So, this is the new intern?” Jensen asks, stating the obvious as he surveys the boy. The kid has the good sense not to raise his head, but Jensen can feel his eyes gazing at him from behind the brown bangs.

Jeff lets the hand with the leash tug gently at the boy’s hair, tilting his head upwards to reveal a face Jensen could only describe as _adorable,_ even with the carefully blank expression. Good cheekbones, a sharp nose.

“This is Jared,” Jeff confirms, pride shining in his voice. He’s _proud_ that he can claim a kid like that. Well, it just comes back to the part about capitalism at its finest, and Jensen is no one to talk.

“I’ll need his full pedigree before I can agree to take him on, you understand,” Jensen says, his eyes on the boy rather than on Jeff.

Jeff nods and produces a thin paper file from his briefcase, which he slides across to Jensen. “Born in San Antonio, seventeen years old. He’s a bright kid; some of his school records are included. He’s been in custody for about two months, and he was at the general facility out near Waco till this morning.”

Jensen nods. It’s an average history, picking up where the kid – Jared – entered the system instead of dwelling on his life before. A brief worry flashes through his mind that Jared could be underage, but the kid doesn’t look younger than seventeen, and at any rate, Jeff will have all the paperwork in order to swear to it. It’s always the question though, with the younger interns. Not that they tell you that in school.

He flips past the basic information and arrest report to the case files from Lake Waco. The words are short, but to Jensen they’re crystal clear. _Resistance. Insolence. Noncompliance. Discipline. Isolation. Physical force._

“Looks like you got yourself a real prize here,” he drawls, forgoing professionalism in favor of making everyone else as uncomfortable as he suddenly is, reading those words and imagining what inspired them. “They ever get the kid under control?”

Jeff’s face freezes for a moment, but he gets past it without missing a beat. “Jared responds well to more physical methods,” he says smoothly. He tugs at the leash. “Show Mr. Ackles your back.”

Jensen refrains from flinching as the kid complies. Jared stands, turning neatly, using his bound hands with long fingers to roughly hike up the navy sweatshirt, reveal the fading bruises from his shoulders all the way down to his ass. _Fucking shit._ He’s never been much of an advocate of beating interns, and – _oh, fucking shit._ Those are scars underneath, barely visible under the discoloration, thin, angry lines that aren’t going away. He can see Danneel put one hand to her mouth involuntarily, then lower it.

“Unfortunately,” Jeff continues, “as you can undoubtedly see, the discipline required to ensure compliance was… excessive. You may sit down, Jared,” he adds, not unkindly, and Jared drops his hands, turns and sinks back to the floor.

“Given the boy’s history, I imagined that, since physical discipline does have an impact, he might do very well under a personal training system. Very physical, but much less likely to cause so much damage. And a boy as smart as Jared could certainly learn to respond to rewards as well as punishments.”

This could be so much more than Jensen ever imagined himself getting into. “It’s a possibility,” he says, watching Jared’s ramrod posture. The kid is listening to every word, and he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. And honestly, Jensen’s never thought sex should be used as a weapon. It’s… more of a skill set, at least, the way they sell it in school. “But you have to understand that an intern with a history of defiance and behavior problems will be difficult to train.”

“But not impossible.” Jeff doesn’t make it a question.

Jensen swallows. “Anyone can be broken,” he agrees, and Jared stiffens for an instant on the floor. “But it may take time.”

“I have complete confidence in you,” Jeff assures him. “And don’t hesitate to use any methods you deem necessary, although I would prefer no additional scarring.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Jensen replies, and it won’t. He flips to the back of the file, where, sure enough, Jared’s papers are neatly ordered.

 _JARED, 5136341, licensed under the care of Jeffrey Dean Morgan of Richardson, Texas… this 26th day of October…_ et cetera, et cetera… _to Jensen Ross Ackles, employed by Wise County facilities… all rights and responsibilities thereof…_

It’s a standard contract, with all the right phrasing and that veneer of respectability, and Jensen signs it with a smile. Jeff initials briskly and gives the paper to Danneel to act as witness and affix the Wise County seal.

“I believe that takes care of everything,” Jensen says, and Jeff rises, Jared jumping up before the collar can tighten around his neck. Jeff extends his hand for Jensen to shake again.

“Keep me informed of his progress,” he says earnestly, and he slips the lead into Jensen’s hand.

Jensen isn’t sure whether Jeff can tell how forced his answering smile is, but the good news is that it’s almost over. He takes the leash idly in his hand. The leather is warm.

“And you, boy,” Jeff says, turning his eyes to Jared, “You should be aware that Mr. Ackles has the legal power of any supervisor, and my full permission to use it. I advise you to adjust your behavior accordingly.”

Jared doesn’t offer a reply, and Jensen realizes, startled, that he hasn’t heard a word out of the kid the entire time. Normally, a comment like that – or the other orders Jeff had given – would be met with an answering “Yes, sir.” None of that from Jared, though. Well, that would be the first thing to change.

“We’ll be in touch,” Jeff promises Jensen, and he’s gone. Jensen is left gingerly holding Jared’s leash, fully aware that there’s a human being on the other end. He nods his head at the door, and Danneel takes the cue.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she says. “I’ll be right down the hall.”

“Thank you, Miss Harris,” Jensen says. “Jared and I need some time to get better acquainted with each other.” He doesn’t miss Jared’s flinch at the words, but the kid doesn’t need to worry either. Nobody’s getting hurt today.

As the door clicks shut behind her, Jensen lets the leash fall from his fingers. The short lead doesn’t reach the floor, just dangles loosely around Jared’s knees. Jared looks up at him, his face carefully blank but his eyes curious.

It’s the first good look Jensen has gotten at Jared’s eyes. They’re hazel, for lack of a better word, a sort of green-brown-gray and completely entrancing. Jared really is a beautiful kid. _Oh, this is going to be too easy._

For now, though, it’s time for Jensen to summon everything he’s learned and practiced for the past three years.

“Jared,” he says, not harshly, and the kid fixes his gaze obediently on Jensen’s mouth. It’s not presumptuous, the way eye contact would be to some supervisors, but it allows Jared to pay close attention to Jensen’s next words.

Time to take care of the first problem. “When I address you, Jared, or when any guard or trainer at the facility addresses you, you are to answer with ‘Yes, sir.’ Mr. Morgan may have different rules within his household, but that is the standard protocol.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared parrots, and it’s the first time Jensen has heard his voice. It sounds caught on something, like he’s holding back sarcasm with all his might. Jensen ignores it.

“Jared, I want you to look me in the eyes.”

This proves a little more difficult for Jared, most likely because the general facilities tend to beat _insolence_ and _insubordination_ like eye contact out of the interns early on. It’s clearly an order though, and Jared swallows his training to obey.

“Yes, sir,” he says, raising his eyes to meet Jensen’s. He’s got a good couple of inches on Jensen, but from his submissive, slumped shoulders, he seems much smaller than he actually is.

Jensen offers him a small smile. “Very good. Now, Jared, over the next few weeks, you’ll be spending a lot of time with me. We’ll be practicing a lot of things. Most of them will be new, and probably a little different and uncomfortable for you.”

Jared nods his understanding, dropping his eyes to the floor again. “Yes, sir.”

Jensen reaches out and cups Jared’s chin, pulling the kid’s head up so they’re looking in each other’s eyes again. “Keep it there, Jared. Because you’re going to have questions, and we want to do this right, you and I need to communicate pretty damn well. To me, this means eye contact.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees.

Time to address the next part. Jensen nods, puts a hand on Jared’s shoulder to still him, and walks behind the boy. He unknots the strip of leather binding Jared’s hands together, and discards it in the chair Jeff left empty. Jared clenches his fingers together as he feels the movement, holding them in position at the small of his back.

“Drop your hands, Jared,” Jensen says, and Jared obeys instantly, the long, slim hands coming to rest at his sides. Jensen can see marks where other cuffs have been too tight, but he says nothing, returning to stand in front of Jared again.

Jared looks up, hesitantly meeting Jensen’s eyes. Jensen smiles. “Good job,” he says mildly. “Now I want you to take off your leash. Leave the collar.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared reaches up, snaps off the lead. He holds it in his hands, glances down at it before snapping his eyes back to Jensen’s.

“Place it on the chair.” Jared complies. Jensen wonders why the kid’s behaving so well, since he’s supposed to be enough of a problem to have earned the scarring on his back. Then again, that scarring could explain it.

“If you have any questions at any point, Jared, you have full permission to speak freely.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared says, and his voice is surprisingly grateful.

“I’m serious about communicating,” Jensen repeats. “You need to let me know what’s going on in your head and with your body so we can make this as painless as possible for us both.”

Jared nods again, his bangs covering his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Have a seat,” Jensen directs, and Jared takes the second chair, the one where Danneel was sitting earlier.

Jensen considers Jeff’s chair briefly, but takes a seat on the edge of the desk instead, closer to the intern.

“What’s your name?” he asks casually.

Jared answers readily enough. “Jared Morgan, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, Jared, your official training is not starting today. Today we’re getting to know each other a little better.”

He sees the fear flash across the kid’s face, and wonders briefly what those words meant at the general facility. Nothing pleasant, he’s sure. He pushes the thought away.

“I imagine you’ve completed most of high school, is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, a note of worry in his voice. He adds quickly, as if he’s uncertain whether Jensen wants more information, “I was just starting my senior year.”

Jensen gives him an encouraging smile. “Wonderful.” He reaches down for the bag he brought, and pulls out a small book he’s brought along for the occasion. It’s one of the suggested icebreakers, and he’s had good results with it during his residency. He notices Jared’s thinly veiled curiosity at seeing an actual, flip-the-pages, three-dimensional book. “You ever read any Shakespeare?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“No, sir,” Jared responds.

Jensen passes him _Romeo and Juliet,_ one of few Shakespearean plays to survive the purging of unwanted books from the libraries during his own childhood.

“I’d like you to read it aloud,” he says.

Jared raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t ask any questions.

“Not all of it,” Jensen hastens to assure him. “Not in one sitting. Just start from the beginning. You don’t have to read the stage directions. I want you to act as though you were reading it in a class.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and, glancing around nervously as though he expects someone else in the room to be watching him and laughing, he flips past the title page and list of characters to the start of Act I. _“Two households, both alike in dignity/ in fair Verona where we lay our scene/ from ancient grudge break to new mutiny/ where civil blood makes civil hands unclean…”_

His voice grows stronger as he reads, finding the natural rhythm in the words. He stumbles once or twice, unfamiliar with the old language, but by the time the prologue concludes he seems like he has a gift for it. Jeff wasn’t lying when he said Jared was a bright kid.

“Excellent.” Jensen holds up a hand to stop him. “Do you know the story of Romeo and Juliet, Jared?”

Jared nods uncertainly. “They were in love but they couldn’t be together so they killed themselves, sir?” he supplies.

“More or less. And do you understand what you just read?”

“I think so, sir,”

“Try it in modern English, line by line.”

“Oh… okay. I mean, yes, sir,” Jared adds quickly. It’s obvious how confused he is by the entire proceedings.

“Two households, both alike in dignity… is two families with about the same power and credit, right?”

Jensen nods. “Very good. Go on.”

“And it takes place in Verona, where they live…” Jared continues, with Jensen offering brief explanations about one or two outdated concepts. Overall, he’s pleasantly surprised at the ease with which Jared follows Shakespeare. Aware of the limitations, he was prepared to pull out a young adult novel from the last century, and he still might, but Jared’s faring so well he decides instead on an adaptation of the same play into a more modern novel format.

Jensen presses the button on his desk, and Alona answers promptly. “Yes, Mr. Ackles?”

“Can I get some lunch delivered to my office as soon as possible? For two.”

“Right away, of course,” she says promptly, and Jensen smiles faintly as he takes his finger off the intercom and notices the relief in Jared’s eyes.

“We can pick up after we both eat,” he tells Jared.

Jared almost smiles back at him, he can tell, and Jensen gets another rush of quick confidence. He can do this. He knows he can.

Lunch arrives almost immediately, chicken salad sandwiches and tomato soup, and Jensen insists that Jared eat as much as he wants.

“You’ll need the calories to keep your strength up and get to healing, Jared,” he says firmly. “You’re not going to get fat, not as tall as you are, as long as you keep active. Which you will.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared mumbles, flushing. Jensen can tell he’s already getting in with Jared. After a stay in general facility, he’s sure it’s only too easy. Every small gesture is magnified, contrasted with whatever hell the kids have been through before – and almost all the personal interns could be called kids. It’s no wonder Stockholm Syndrome is alive and well among the interns. They’re primed for it.

“It’s not a problem,” Jensen responds. “And Jared, if there’s anything you need, and I find out you didn’t ask me for it, I’m going to be very upset with you.” He puts enough steel in his voice to make sure Jared pays attention.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

The rest of the meal takes place in relative quiet, with Jensen sitting in his chair rather than on the desk. He can see Jared’s eyes flitting nervously around the room, looking for something, anything, to be afraid of, but there’s not much here. Not in plain sight, anyway.

Finally, Jared seems to have finished eating, and Jensen buzzes Alona again to ask that the trays be removed. He passes the modernized Shakespeare across to Jared, and moves Jared’s leash and cuffs to his desk, sitting in the vacated chair as Jared begins again.

Reading is one of the strategies suggested in school for getting a feel for an intern early on. Jensen’s found it pretty successful, both in observing the interns he’s practiced with and in putting them at ease. The best part is that it’s knowledge obtained without touching, without prying, without upsetting anyone too much on the first day. It calms everyone down. Makes them more likely to trust him, too.

Jared reads on, pausing only for brief sips of water, for some time before Jensen finally stops him in what would correspond to Scene V. He doesn’t tend to stumble over words, and he reads clearly, following the story, lending personality to the characters with his voice.

 _“…his mind was completely preoccupied with the heavenly image before him, moving so gracefully to the music,”_ Jared finishes, and as he reaches for the pitcher again, Jensen holds up a hand.

“That’s enough for now, Jared,” he says, holding out his hand for the book. Jared returns it, and this time he really is smiling.

“Yes, sir,” he responds. Already he’s more comfortable with speaking, with showing emotion, with Jensen and the whole situation. But it’s two in the afternoon, and as much as he might enjoy it, Jensen can’t waste any more time playing English teacher.

“Are you enjoying the story?” he asks, and Jared’s smile becomes almost a grin. Jensen’s struck by how gorgeous it is, strong white teeth and _dimples_ that take over his face.

“I really am, sir,” he says.

Jensen nods. “I’m glad to hear it. We may continue with it later. But right now, I’d like to talk a little more about the next few weeks.”

Jared’s grin disappears as he speaks, replaced by a sort of wary resignation at the words. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any questions about what personal interns do?” Jensen asks him carefully, knowing there are probably a million questions flying through Jared’s head, especially since he’s been in custody for two months.

“Could you… could you please just give me a general overview, sir?” Jared asks cautiously.

Jensen rewards the communication with another smile. “Of course. Like other interns, personal interns are licensed to one respected member of society, who pays a fee to ensure he or she treats the intern well, as a valued human being.” _Valuable_ human being might be more accurate, if Jensen’s being honest, but it’s not politically correct, and Jensen has a feeling Jared knows he’s full of shit anyway. He continues.

“In your case, Mr. Morgan has made arrangements to take care of you until such time as you can be released to society again without proving dangerous to the country. In return for that service, you will be expected to perform certain duties for him.”

“Sexual duties, you mean, sir,” Jared says. It’s not a question.

“That is the nature of a personal intern, yes,” Jensen says. He can already tell why the kid got into trouble while he was in general – if he’s already pointing out inconvenient details like that, he must have been a handful. It takes balls, too, and he has to hand it to Jared.

“May I ask a question, sir?” Jared’s tone is casual enough, but his eyes drop to Jensen’s mouth again and his voice trembles a little, which lets Jensen know that the question is probably going to explain why Jared was considered _insolent._

“You may ask me any questions, Jared, but I do warn you to think carefully, even when you’re speaking to me, and not ask the questions that are just an excuse to act smart and resist authority.”

“It’s not, sir. I really want to know.” _That_ voice is honest enough, if a little ashamed.

Jensen tilts Jared’s chin up, forcing Jared to meet his eyes again. “I’m listening.”

Jared swallows. “Interns are supposed to be rehabilitated and integrated back into society, right, sir?”

“Yes.” _Even if they never are._

“And they’re interned in order to learn a useful, productive skill set to contribute to society.” _Ah, shit._

“That is the purpose of the rehabilitation period, yes.”

“So, what exactly is the good of a personal intern? We don’t usually see prostitutes as productive members of society.” Jared’s voice breaks, and he drops his eyes again. Jensen doesn’t demand that he maintain eye contact.

“I really am just curious, sir,” Jared says, and Jensen can hear in his voice how freaked out he is, how close to breaking down. That’s not his goal, although he’s sure it will happen multiple times before Jared is well-trained enough to return to the care of Jeffrey Dean Morgan, unless they’re both damn careful.

He’s not quite sure how to respond to this, since it’s obvious that the textbook answer is _really_ full of shit, and there’s always a chance Jared will call him on it, but the kid deserves some sort of answer. If he gets mouthy, Jensen can take care of that too, although he’d like to avoid it on the first day. He wonders just what “persuasive” tools are hiding in the desk drawer, and his mouth tightens at the thought.

“As you are doubtless aware, Jared, some interns are never fully rehabilitated,” Jensen says as gently as possible. “Some are simply incapable of taking the oath of loyalty, and some have expressed such intense hatred of President Ostroff and the nation that it would be a danger to let them act as independent citizens in our country after any period of time. This includes some interns who, like you, come into the system young. Because your parents have instilled a very dangerous belief system into you from an early age, and you may never be able to move past it. These are the interns who generally go to personal trainers, because chances are good that complete rehabilitation is impossible.”

Jared snorts when Jensen talks about the young interns like him, but Jensen is fairly certain that Jared’s just holding back tears and he lets it go.

“So there’s your explanation, Jared. I hope it satisfies you, because it’s the only one I have, and if you ask elsewhere, it may be considered a form of questioning the government, and I know you don’t want to give off that impression.”

“No, sir,” Jared agrees after a moment.

Jensen smiles. “To continue with our conversation, yes, you will be trained in sexual services. I’ll be starting your training as early as tomorrow, in fact. It will be a slow process, so you can master each skill before progressing, and to make sure you’ve acclimated successfully before we move on to full penetration.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, his jaw working a little at the words. He’s still not looking at Jensen, and Jensen reaches out again. The minute his fingers touch Jared’s face, the boy jerks his chin up to stare into Jensen’s eyes. Jared’s own eyes are a little wet, and Jensen doesn’t comment on it. “Good boy,” he says simply. “You’re learning.” He lets his fingers drop.

“Sir?” Jared asks after a moment.

“Yes?”

“Will you – I mean, am I –” Jared stumbles over how to phrase his question.

“What do you want to know?” Jensen asks.

Jared takes a breath, tries again. “When I was in the general facility, someone – I heard that interns were sometimes trained by multiple people, sir.”

“That’s true,” Jensen acknowledges. “But it’s rarer for personal interns, and since this is a direct job, and I’m being contracted by Mr. Morgan instead of by the state, I won’t be incorporating anyone else into your training unless he requests it or you prove to be too difficult for me to handle by myself.” He smiles during the last bit, and Jared attempts a smile back, but now that Jensen’s seen the kid’s actually smile there’s no way he’s falling for a pathetic attempt like that.

“So you can expect our training sessions to be on a daily or almost-daily basis, for several hours each session, working one on one,” Jensen finishes. “Just you and me. So I hope we get along.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, and he does smile at that, even if it’s not the dazzling grin Jensen saw earlier.

“You out of questions, kid?” Jensen doesn’t even realize he’s calling Jared “kid” until it comes out, and it’s just too bad he likes the little shit enough to already be slipping out of his professional attitude. Then again, it’s not like anyone is around to see him losing some of the edge on the first day, and isn’t the point to make the interns like him? He thinks of Danneel Harris and her offer to play the bad cop, and resolves that Jared _will_ like him.

“For now, anyway, sir.” Jared smiles, like they’re sharing a laugh over all of Jared’s worries, and Jensen’s relieved to see that the familiarity has put Jared at ease, because these next few minutes could be tense.

“Good. Because now it’s my turn to ask a few questions.” He grimaces apologetically, trying to keep the mood light, and Jared seems to go along with it. Good.

“Now, we’ll be involved in some pretty intimate situations,” he continues, in an almost self-mocking tone, as if he’s just reciting the standard phrases and he thinks they’re corny as hell. “So I’m going to need to know a few things about your sexual history.”

Jared blushes a little, but he doesn’t look genuinely frightened or upset, which is always a plus. “Yes, sir,” he replies. “Ask away.”

Jensen nods. Of course Jared doesn’t really have a choice in answering Jensen’s questions, but Jared going along with the easy way will save Jensen a lot of time and Jared a bit of fear and loneliness. “Great.” He holds up one finger as he begins, indicating the first of a planned, rehearsed number of questions.

“Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a man?”

“No, sir,” Jared answers sharply, and the thought is enough to send worry creeping back into his eyes, but Jensen ignores it and continues, because they’ll be returning to this point several times today alone. He holds up a second finger.

“Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a woman?”

Jared makes a brief face that Jensen can’t quite interpret. “What kind of sex, sir?” he asks. Ah. The kid was qualifying.

“Well, I was asking about full-fledged sexual intercourse, but why don’t you just tell me about any experiences you’ve had.”

Jared blushes deeper, clears his throat, and squirms a little in his seat. “Well, I, uhm. I.” He pauses.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Jensen promises, leaning forward conspiratorially, and that does make Jared laugh.

“Okay. Well, last year I started going out with Sandy McCoy. And before that I’d made out with a couple of girls but nothing, you know, heavy. Sir. Anyway, we, uhm, we hit third base a couple of times in my car.”

Jensen has to smile at that, because it’s so _innocent,_ and Jared groans and buries his flaming face in his hands.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jensen laughs, and Jared raises his head slowly, still looking mortified. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I do have to press you for the gory details.” Honestly, Jensen isn’t at all sorry. Jared, bright red and laughing with nervous embarrassment, is something he’s going to remember for a while.

“Okay, uhm. She gave me a… a hand job, twice. And the second time she let me, uhm, return the favor? Sir?” Jared’s still obviously mortified.

Jensen smiles reassuringly. “You enjoy it?”

Jared looks at him like he’s crazy. “Yes, sir.”

Jensen tries his best to give an encouraging smile, but he’s afraid Jared can still tell how amused he is. “That’s good news. In that case, we can probably have you enjoying our training sessions in no time.”

Jared looks slightly less convinced of this, but he doesn’t press it.

Now it’s time to move on to the hardest question, the one that can unearth some of the things Jensen doesn’t consider anyone but a licensed psychiatrist equipped to deal with. He’s good at manipulating people – helped him graduate from the top of his class – but he feels like a poor substitute.

“Sometimes, Jared, while interns are in the general facilities, they’re taken advantage of,” he says, transitioning from playful to gentle. “Sometimes other interns, or even the guards, can –”

“It was another intern,” Jared interrupts, forestalling the line of questioning. “Just once. He backed me into the wall and made me suck his dick.”

It’s obvious in so many ways to Jensen that Jared is lying. The way he cut across Jensen’s questions, spit out the words, forgot to say ‘sir’ and answered Jensen’s mouth instead of his eyes. He’d been rehearsing that little outburst since before he even met Jensen.

“And you let him?” Jensen asks softly.

Jared looks frustrated. “He was bigger than me,” he answers shortly. “Sir.”

Jared’s not opening up to Jensen about this. Not today, anyway. Jensen lets it slide.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in me asking whether or not that was an enjoyable experience,” he says softly, “but please do allow me to say that I’m terribly sorry you had to go through that, and you shouldn’t have to worry about any encounters of that nature here.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared responds, and it’s clear that he’s angry and he doesn’t believe a word of it. He doesn’t have any reason to believe, either.

“Now, later on in your training, oral sex will be covered, but I hope that by that time you’ll be able to find it a more pleasant experience.”

Jared’s just shy of glaring at him, and he can tell that the rest of the day is going to be a waste. “One more question, Jared,” he says. “Would you consider yourself heterosexual, bisexual or homosexual?”

Jared laughs derisively. “Does it matter, sir?” he retorts.

“If you could just answer the question, please.” Jensen puts a warning in his voice.

“Bisexual in practice,” Jared says bitterly, and Jensen lets it go at that.

He stands up, picking up the long-forgotten leash and cuffs from his desk and pressing the call button for a guard. “If you could oblige me,” he says simply, and Jared stands, letting him refasten the leash and tie his hands loosely behind his back.

The guard comes, and Jensen realizes that it’s barely three in the afternoon. As Jared is led out of the office, Jensen stops the guard. “Give these to the intern when he’s in his cell,” he requests, handing over the two discarded copies of _Romeo and Juliet._ He smiles at Jared. “It’ll give you something to occupy the time.”

Left alone in his office, Jensen looks around the suddenly-too-quiet space. It’s empty, and he takes the opportunity to slide open the desk drawer. Inside are the promised restraints – leather, like the others in the facility – and a sleek black martinet. The tails are knotted on the ends, and Jensen thinks the thing could probably draw blood. He shuts the drawer quickly, as if by not seeing the whip he can forget about it, and forget about the marks on Jared’s back. Forget about the whole damn nature of his job.

Jensen should probably be writing up his initial evaluation of Jared now, but frankly, he’s ready for a break. He stands up and heads out, pausing to lock the office door.

“Done so soon?” Danneel asks, coming up from behind him.

Jensen makes a face. “Got about all I was going to get out of him today,” he says. “I’m just going to take it slow to start out.”

“Probably a good idea,” Danneel agrees. “Was he giving you any problems?” she asks, and she’s not just making conversation.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Jensen says, maybe a little defensively if he’s being honest. He tries again, in a more measured tone of voice. “I just didn’t want to push him too far. I’m trying to build up some trust, because I would rather things go as smoothly as possible throughout the training.”

“That’s good,” Danneel says, and there’s no judgment in her voice. “Really good. Just let me know if he gets to be a problem and you need some backup to make you look like the good option. So are you heading back home already?”

“I figured I would go check out the gym, actually,” Jensen says. He grins. “You know, work off some of the stress.”

Danneel smiles back. “Mind if I come along?” she asks. “I usually hit the gym for an hour or so in the afternoons anyway.”

“Not at all,” Jensen says, and they head down the hall together.

The gym is small but well equipped, with a track surrounding a variety of exercise machines. At a desk by the door, a man with a ponytail and intense expression is staring at a computer. Apart from him, the gym is deserted, and Danneel leads Jensen over promptly.

“Hey Chris!” she calls, and the man stands up to greet them. He’s shorter than Jensen expected, but muscular, and the way he moves lets Jensen know in an instant that he knows how to take care of himself.

“You must be Jensen,” he says, extending a hand, and Jensen shakes it.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he says, smiling. He’s getting used to the way the other trainers here act, with their friendliness and casual familiarity.

“Christian Kane,” he says. “Good to meet you. It looks like I’ll be seeing you pretty regularly?” he asks, surveying Jensen’s frame.

“I hope so, yeah,” Jensen says. “Maybe my intern too, the one I’m working with now. I think he’d probably welcome the exercise.”

Danneel butts in then, punching his arm harder than he thought she would hit. “Damn, that’s a cute kid,” she says. “I’m jealous you get him, just so you know.”

“So you’re working with the men?” Chris asks Jensen, and Jensen nods, stiffening slightly.

“Hey, that’s cool, man,” Chris says, interpreting his posture correctly. “We get over that sort of thing pretty quickly here, so long as you don’t go around moving in on the other trainers. Except for Danneel, here. She never got that memo.”

“You love it,” Danneel says. “Besides, he’s not going to be making any moves on you as long as he’s got that little piece of ass.”

That reminds Jensen. “Do you get many interns looking like that?” he asks, and Danneel knows immediately what he meant.

“His back? God, no,” she says, and he can tell again that it’s upset her as much as him. She turns to Chris. “Some fucker at general left him beat to hell. Looks like he’s got scars under the bruises, too.”

“Hell,” Chris swears. “But he’s still going to personal service?”

“Mr. Morgan is less concerned with that, I think,” Jensen says.

Chris nods at that. “I’ve heard he’s a real humanitarian. Never really figured him for owning interns himself.”

Jensen shrugs, still not entirely comfortable with the conversation. “I’ll just be careful about his back until those bruises heal up,” he says.

Danneel nods. “I’m sure they’ll be taking care of it in the cells too,” she says. “We have a great medical team here.”

There’s a brief pause, which she breaks. “Well, I’m going to get my laps in,” she says, gesturing to the track. She starts off slow before reaching an even jog. Pacing herself.

“She’s a real spitfire, isn’t she?” Chris asks, watching her.

“Sure is,” Jensen agrees.

“So what do you usually look for in a workout?” Chris asks.

Jensen shrugs. “I was thinking some weights, maybe,” he says, and lets Chris take him on a tour of the equipment.

He spends an hour or so at the gym before he packs up to head back to his apartment in Richardson. The commute is something he could do without, but he understands the importance of having the facilities away from the cities. In the car, he dictates his initial assessment of Jared into his phone.

“Intern proves responsive to kindness. Doubtless afraid of future punishment owing to treatment received in general facilities at Lake Waco. Very bright, but easy to read and influence. Likely heterosexual. May have qualms about oral sex. May require further training and discipline concerning appropriate questions and loyalty to the nation.”

There’s not much else Jensen feels he can say, as _damn cute_ doesn’t really belong in his evaluations. Reviewing it when he gets home, he decides it’s satisfactory for the time being, and more details can always be added later. He puts it in the back of Jared’s file.

He calls Jeff that night, knowing he could go over to Jeff’s house if he wanted to, but unwilling to make that move back into childhood. Not when he can pretend that he and Jeff are interacting as equals now.

“Jeffrey Dean Morgan,” Jeff answers, and Jensen feels himself relax a little, just hearing Jeff’s voice. It’s weakness, and he knows it, but at the same time he feels like he’s allowed a little weakness.

“Hey, Jeff,” he says.

“Jensen.” Jeff’s voice is warm. “How was the first day?”

Jensen lets out a shaky laugh. “It was… it was good,” he says. “I like the people I’ll be working with. It seems like a good environment. Very… human.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jeff says. “And how did you like Jared?”

“Engaging in that kind of one-on-one is intense,” Jensen says carefully. He eases himself into his recliner, stares at the blank walls of his new apartment. “You know, all the training you get at vocational school really can’t get you ready for that moment when it’s only you standing there.”

“He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Jeff asks, his voice sharp.

“No. No, nothing like that,” Jensen says. “His back, though, Jeff – that’s got to be illegal.”

“I’ve asked the management at Lake Waco to look into it,” Jeff says. “They’ve assured me that it isn’t standard policy, and they’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Is that why you picked him?” Jensen asks. Jeff’s exterior does a good job of hiding his softer side, but Jensen’s known him long enough to see through the act.

Jeff clears his throat. “Well, there was that, and then he seemed like a good kid. Like he would do well outside of general. And… I thought you would like him,” he says finally.

“I do,” Jensen says. It’s one of the more surreal moments of his life, thanking his godfather for picking out human chattel to his tastes. The right kind of kid to be _broken,_ like he’d said before, just to see how Jared reacted. His stomach tightens at the memory.

“I’m glad,” Jeff says. His voice is almost reluctant as he speaks. “I – I wanted it to be a good start for you,” he says. “I want you to be happy with this job.”

“I appreciate that,” Jensen says. “Really. Thank you.” He pauses. “I think I will be.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You’ll keep me updated?”

“Of course.” There’s nothing else to say on the subject, not really, and after a minute Jeff starts talking about some new client he had lunch with today. Jensen takes a deep, shuddering breath and relaxes, letting Jeff talk him back into normal life.


	3. Chapter Two

_October 27th, 2076_

Jensen gives instructions for Jared to be brought in at ten every morning, and at five to ten he glances around the office just to make sure everything is in place. It is, of course. He’s hardly had time to move anything into it. He wonders idly whether Jared will still be upset about yesterday’s line of questioning, but at any rate the honeymoon period is over. Jared’s been in the cells since yesterday afternoon, and Jensen’s willing to bet he’ll be happy enough to be out that he won’t prove much of a problem.

If he was going to be a problem, Jensen’s thought about having him read again today, naked this time. He doesn’t think this is going to be necessary with Jared, both because the kid’s too smart to think it’s anything but an acclimating measure and because he’s unlikely to have worked himself into a nervous frenzy about what happens next. For the most part Jared just seems… despondent, like he’s ready to accept his fate rather than face the consequences of resistance, impressed so firmly on his back. Again, he’s a smart kid.

The same guard from yesterday leads Jared in, handing Jensen the end of the leash and the two books he’d given the kid to read. Jensen wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been destroyed – he’d heard of kids doing that before in the cells, ripping up the books rather than read them, although he’d thought Jared would have more sense than that – but he is surprised to have them back so quickly. He thanks the guard, who shows himself out, and turns to look at Jared.

The kid is freshly showered, damp hair still clinging to the skin around his ears, with deep circles under his eyes. He looks like he’s been awake all night.

Jensen moves to untie his hands. “You can take off the leash,” he reminds Jared.

The kid nods gratefully. “Thank you, sir,” he says, and his hoarse voice betrays his exhaustion. He clears his throat quickly, trying to pretend nothing is wrong.

“Did you sleep well?” Jensen asks, watching the flush rise in Jared’s cheeks.

“I – yes, sir. I was late getting to sleep, though. I was finishing the books, sir.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Did you expect a test?”

Jared shrugs. “I didn’t know, sir. I thought I had better be ready if you did plan on asking me about them.”

Jensen smiles kindly. “I appreciate that, Jared, but the books were just for you to read in your cell. So you’d have something to do.” _Something to distract you._

Jared nods. “Thank you, sir,” he says, and Jensen hears the note of skeptical surprise.

“So how much sleep do you imagine you got last night?” he asks the kid.

Jared smiles in a self-deprecating way. “Maybe four hours, sir. I was up early reviewing the books too.”

Jensen laughs a little, but not enough to make Jared embarrassed. He’s working on rebuilding the feeling of camaraderie they’d established fairly easily before, until the intake questions came up. Most of the interns fall for friendliness, at least in the beginning. _I’m on your side. We’re in this together._

“You must be exhausted,” he says, and Jared shrugs in response.

“Maybe a little, sir,” he agrees.

Sending the kid back to his cell for a little naptime isn’t exactly going to get anything done, so Jensen settles on the backup plan.

“I tell you what,” he says, as if it’s just occurred to him, “why don’t we go to the gym? You can run around the track a few times, see if it wakes you up.”

He doesn’t miss the blinding smile Jared gives him. Quite frankly, it would be impossible to miss, with those teeth and dimples just radiating joy.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says emphatically, as if it’s the best thing he’s heard in two months, and it very well may be.

“Great,” Jensen says, smiling back. “I’m afraid it’s across the building, and I’ll have to lead you there,” he says, picking the leash off the top of his desk, “but we can leave your hands free.”

Jared nods quickly, willing to dismiss the indignity of the leash for the chance to go to the gym. He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet as Jensen clips it back onto the collar, and Jensen gives a startled laugh.

“Sorry,” Jared apologizes, looking not the least bit sorry. “Sir.”

“It’s not a problem, Jared,” Jensen says, still amused. “Just tone it down as we’re walking to the gym, will you? We don’t need the guards thinking you’re having too much fun, or I’ll get in trouble.” He doesn’t really think he would. Nobody would question his methods as long as he kept producing the desired result. Wasn’t that how the real world worked?

“Okay.” Jared immediately straightens his face, but there’s still a twinkle in his eyes and a suspicious spring to his step as Jensen opens the office door and leads him down the hallway.

They don’t encounter many people on their way, just two guards who Jensen knows are bemused by the way Jared is practically prancing on the end of his leash, and Danneel, who watches them from a distance. When they get to the gym, Chris takes one look at Jared and gives Jensen a sly thumbs-up. Fortunately the kid doesn’t notice, craning his neck to peer past the doorway and into the gymnasium.

“Anyone on the track?” Jensen asks.

Chris shakes his head. “All yours. Going to amp up the endurance testing already?”

Jensen grins back. “Ah, hell, he’s been here one whole day already. No point in wasting time.” After Chris’s light laughter, he adds “Actually, Jared didn’t get much sleep last night. I thought a few laps might loosen him up and get him ready for some actual training.”

“Not a problem at all.” Chris stands aside to let Jensen and Jared enter into the room, and Jensen unclips Jared’s leash.

“All right, Jared, as many as you think you can do,” he says, and Jared mock-salutes and obeys, taking off around the floor at a speed that he probably won’t be able to maintain. Jensen figures that the kid’s probably just stretching his legs, and sure enough, he’s settled into a just-barely slower pace after half a lap, measuring his strides. As he passes Chris and Jensen, it’s obvious he loves every second of it.

“That’s Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s boy?” Chris asks, and Jensen nods assent. “You weren’t lying when you said he was something else.”

“Needs a bit of work,” Jensen acknowledges, and Chris laughs again.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

They watch Jared running circles around the track, and Jensen has to congratulate himself again, because after he’s finished, Jared’s going to be a nice mix of worn-out and exhilarated, and that’s going to make the rest of the day a lot easier.

“He’s damn pretty, though,” Chris adds, shooting him a grin that tells him he knows exactly how much Jensen’s going to enjoy the next few weeks.

Jensen grimaces. “I don’t pick them, Chris, I just train them,” he says, but he knows exactly how full of shit that is, and Chris does too. “How are you holding up?” he calls to Jared, still loping along.

“Great!” Jared calls back. Jensen knows he’ll probably push himself to the point of exhaustion, thinking that being limp and sweaty will somehow forestall any lessons Jensen has planned for the day. He’s not going to stop the kid.

Chris and Jensen make small talk, keeping their eyes on Jared, until the kid finally slows down and grinds to a halt three laps later. He’s out of breath and grasping his side, and shoots Jensen a wry grin.

“You about finished, Jared?” Jensen asks, and Jared pants out a response.

“Yeah, I – guess… I’m a little – out of shape, sir,” he answers, and Jensen nods.

“I don’t imagine you’ve done much exercising in the past couple of months.”

“No, sir,” Jared answers. He looks as if he’s on the verge of adding something, but decides against it in order to lean up against the wall and catch his breath.

“Well, I guess our work here is done for today then,” Jensen says. He shakes Chris’s hand briefly, and holds out the end of the leash. Jared comes forward reluctantly, with a backwards glance at the gym before he ducks his head in and allows Jensen to refasten the lead.

Jensen doesn’t exactly drag Jared back to his office, but he walks briskly, and he knows if he looks back he’ll see Jared wincing as he struggles to keep up. Jared’s kept his sweatshirt on throughout the little field trip to the gym, and Jensen hasn’t gotten a really good look at the bruising. He’s sure it’s been properly treated – after all, Jared is under the protection and iron thumb of Jeff Morgan – but it can’t be comfortable for the kid to be led through the facility, trying to slow his shallow breathing.

When Jensen finally unlocks his door, Jared’s in the room almost before he is, and Jensen frowns slightly. “It’s customary for the supervisor to lead, Jared. It’s part of the purpose for the leash.”

“Sorry, sir,” Jared apologizes, his voice still ragged. He casts a longing glance to the chairs in front of the desk, and Jensen unclips the leash.

“You can take a seat,” he allows, and Jared sinks down immediately.

“Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Jensen leaves him for maybe thirty seconds.

“Jared,” he says, and Jared’s eyes snap open, head jerking up again. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait to sleep.”

“Is it lunchtime?” Jared asks, and Jensen realizes with a jolt that he’s forgotten they’ll need to eat before too long.

“Not yet,” he says. “First, we’re going to have to do something about you.”

“About me what?” Jared asks. He’s so tired he’s forgetting to call Jensen ‘sir,’ but Jensen is confident it will come back to him quickly.

He shrugs. “Well, you’re a bit of a mess, and since bathing is a standard part of training, I thought we could go ahead and start those lessons.”

Jared develops a stubborn set to his jaw. “Bathing?” he asks, as though he could not possibly have heard Jensen correctly.

“Bathing,” Jensen replies firmly. “And don’t think you can argue with me, because you’re stinking up my office.”

Jared clearly isn’t sure what to make of this, and Jensen takes advantage of his confusion to issue another clear order. “Stand up,” he says, and Jared obeys immediately.

Jensen wonders how far he can push the kid today without argument, but Jared is looking fairly defeated and he decides to take his chances.

“Before we go to the bathroom, Jared, I’m going to need you to strip for me,” he says, in a tone that somehow diffuses responsibility and makes it clear that resistance will be completely futile. Jared swallows heavily.

“Yes, sir,” he says finally, and he turns around, exposing his battered back to Jensen as he pulls the navy sweatshirt over his head, shaking his hair after so it settles back around his face. The bruising has faded even since yesterday, forming an irregular yellow and purple trail down Jared’s golden skin. Jensen can distinguish the scars more easily now, five thick red stripes traveling in horizontal lines, evenly spaced, raised and still scabbing over in one or two places. He’ll have to be gentle when he washes Jared’s back today, and for the next few days, at the least.

Jared tucks his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and pauses, throwing Jensen a look over his shoulder. Jensen gives a brief nod in response and Jared doesn’t push it, sliding his sweatpants to the ground and stepping gingerly out of them, then bending down to remove his sneakers.

“You can leave those on for now,” Jensen tells him. “We’ll be walking to the bathroom, and I’m not sure how clean those floors are.”

Inside he’s marveling at Jared’s ass and legs, unmarked by the bruises and scars on his back, and about as pretty as they come. “Can you turn around for me?” he asks, and Jared complies, muttering a ‘yes, sir,’ as he turns, picking up the discarded sweatpants and placing them with the sweatshirt in an empty chair. He keeps his head staring firmly at the ground, and Jensen can tell that it’s taking all his willpower to keep his hands at his sides instead of covering himself.

There’s nothing there that Jared should be ashamed of. And all over, he’s the same beautiful golden skin, marked by the occasional mole that only serves to highlight the color. Even if Jared’s out of practice with his running, he’s certainly not out of shape, and Jensen is seized with a desire to skip the bath and start exploring Jared right away.

But he knows that would be _extremely_ counterproductive, and at any rate, he’s going to be on his best behavior until Jared’s back has healed.

“Jared,” he says instead.

“Yes, sir?” Jared’s voice trembles a little as he answers.

“Look at me.”

Jared’s eyes flash up, and Jensen smiles, trying to reassure the kid. He knows any compliment or criticism will probably do more harm than good. “It’s a bit of a walk, but when we get there, it’ll be worth it.” He picks up the leash and holds it out to Jared.

Jared hesitates for a moment before accepting it and snapping it onto his collar. “After you, sir,” he says, his voice a little stronger, and Jensen smiles approvingly as he takes the handle and leads Jared back into the halls.

Jared’s had two months to get used to being objectified, so he doesn’t seem too disturbed after his initial embarrassment. He holds his head up as Jensen leads him down the halls, eyes fixed on something near the ceiling. Jensen doesn’t know what he’s thinking, and he doesn’t ask. They enter the bathroom in silence.

Jensen can hear voices near the back, so he stops Jared at the second or third little partition, pulling the curtain aside and allowing Jared to enter first. After they’re both inside, he unclips the leash and folds it neatly, placing it on the rack of clean towels. While he’s at it, he takes off his watch and puts it up there too. No point in getting it waterlogged. “You’ll have to take off the collar, too,” he says, not looking at Jared. “We don’t need it getting ruined if it gets wet.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, and a moment later he’s placing the collar with the watch and leash. Jensen turns in time to see him rubbing hard circles against his neck.

“The tubs in the cubicles are built into the floor, as you can see,” Jensen tells him, ignoring the small motion and the hand that quickly flies down to Jared’s side again. “It’s easier to clean up, and since this is your first lesson I thought you might appreciate the privacy.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared says. He’s expected to, so Jensen doesn’t respond.

“The taps are located over the edge here. It’s fairly basic—red is warm water, blue is cold—and you want to make the tub hot, but not scalding.” He kneels down and turns each knob as he speaks, and the sound of running water requires him to speak louder as he drops the old-fashioned plug into the drain.

“It’s better to leave the tub only partially filled,” he continues, “as the process may last long enough for the bath to grow colder and require additional hot water.”

He looks up then. “There _will_ be a test on this, Jared, so I expect you to pay attention.”

Jared smiles in return. “Yes, sir,” he says, and he squats down beside Jensen. Steam is rising from the bath and the air is pleasantly humid. “What about bubbles, sir?”

Jensen shoots Jared a sharp glance, but if the kid meant to be a smartass, he’s hiding it well.

“Bubbles are optional,” he says dryly, “but you’re enough of a mess that they couldn’t hurt. They’re in the silver bottle by the towels.”

Jared passes him the bottle, and their fingers touch briefly. It’s the first time they’ve had actual skin-to-skin contact, but Jensen doesn’t find it particularly electrifying. At any rate, it’s the first of many times to come, starting in just a few minutes. Jared’s fingers are warm and dry.

“Use the cap to measure out the bubbles,” he instructs, filling it nearly full without spilling any liquid over the side. “Then pour it directly under the faucets. You’ll find that a little goes a long way.”

Jared’s watching him almost intently, and he nods his understanding without taking his eyes off Jensen’s hands.

“And that’s about all the preparation we need,” Jensen finishes. He screws the taps shut, and gestures to the empty tub, complete with bubbles. The only thing missing is his intern. “Get your shoes off and get in.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared stretches as he stands up, long arms rising and flexing above his shaggy head, still damp with sweat. He slides in slowly.

“Is it too hot?” Jensen asks, watching as Jared’s knees finally submerge, the rest of him still sitting on the edge of the tub.

“Oh, no, sir,” Jared replies. “Just waiting to see if you were going to join me.”

Jensen’s still unsure whether or not Jared is just being a sarcastic kid, but he’s going to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he’s told him that communication is of the utmost importance, and there are no stupid or inappropriate questions. “Not yet,” he says finally. “We’re still in the introductory stages, and we’re starting small.”

“Right.” Jared slides the rest of the way into the tub. It’s long and deep, and it could qualify as a hot tub with the addition of jets. But the hot tubs are in the back. Jared ducks his head under briefly before pulling himself to the surface again, legs stretched out, bruised back resting against the side of the tub. Iridescent bubbles cling stubbornly to his dark hair, curling around his ears and down the back of his neck. “What next, sir?”

Jensen reaches for the shower cream and rolls up his sleeves. “Next is the actual bathing part,” he says, “and you’ll want to pay attention, because it’s really very similar in essence to a massage.”

“So all the various skills of a personal intern build on each other to create a cohesive whole,” Jared says elegantly as Jensen rubs the cream into a lather between his palms.

He stops then. “Jared,” he says, and it’s enough of a warning that Jared tilts his head back to meet Jensen’s eyes.

“Yes, sir?”

“I appreciate your willingness to communicate with me, but several of your remarks are straddling the line between familiarity and contempt.”

Jared blinks at him from upside down, clearly trying to figure out what Jensen wants, and Jensen tries again. “While I’m very glad you’re able to joke with me, you need to be aware that your sense of humor won’t be appreciated nearly as much by most of the other supervisors you’ll encounter, and many of them would take it as insubordination and, frankly, as very impertinent.”

Jared flounders then, sitting upright so he can turn and face Jensen fully. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sir,” he says earnestly, almost urgently. “I swear.”

“I know, Jared,” Jensen says. “And I’m not telling you to stop talking. I’m just suggesting you cut down on the smart remarks, especially if anyone else is around.” He jerks his head meaningfully toward the back of the baths, where they can still hear faint voices.

“Yes, sir. I can do that,” Jared promises.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Jensen looks down at his soapy hands and stands, moving to the other end of the tub. “Extend your left leg,” he requests, and it flies up in a splash of soapy water.

“Oh, shit, sir, I’m sorry,” Jared says breathlessly, and Jensen frowns at the swearing.

“It’s perfectly fine, Jared. A little slower next time, and without the profanity.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared’s leg comes out of the water again, and Jensen takes a grip on Jared’s ankle, massaging the soap into it and working his way up the leg. He can feel Jared’s muscles tense and relax as he goes, initial nerves lulled into security by his practiced fingers.

“Your hands should be gentle,” he explains, “but penetrating. Make sure you’re doing an excellent job of cleaning the skin, as well as relaxing your supervisor.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and a glance tells Jensen that his eyes are shut, head lolling back against the tiled floor of the cubicle.

Jensen takes a moment to squirt more shower cream into his hands, because the boy does have damn long legs, before gently pulling more of Jared’s thigh above the water, stroking and pinching lightly as he works his way closer to Jared’s midsection.

He can tell through the thin layer of bubbles that Jared’s getting hard, and he doesn’t say anything. It’s a perfectly natural reaction, but if Jared’s straight, he’s going to be humiliated. He’ll have to get used to it.

Jensen stops just in time, moves across to the other side of the tub. “Your right leg, please,” he says, and Jared obeys, slowly sliding his left leg back under the warm water and raising the right.

“Are you getting the idea?” Jensen asks, setting in on Jared’s right ankle.

“I think so, sir,” Jared replies. Jensen progresses up the second leg with essentially the same method as the first, and again stops as he nears Jared’s crotch. He decides to cut the kid a break today.

“Of course, the genital area is more difficult,” he says, “and we’ll be needing more time to devote specifically to that part of the lesson than we have today, since I’m sure you’re looking forward to lunch.”

Jared’s eyes snap open at that. “Yes, sir,” he says, and Jensen can hear the surprise in his voice.

“Sit up.”

Jared obeys, and Jensen crosses behind him again. “I’m going to leave your back alone for the time being,” he says quietly. “You are seeing a doctor until it finishes healing, am I correct?”

“Yes, sir. And thank you.” Jared’s voice is full of honest gratitude, and Jensen’s not going to tell him there’s a strict policy on allowing any and all injuries to heal before giving them a chance to reopen or become infected.

“It’s not a problem, Jared.” And putting his hands on the kid’s chest and arms, that’s not a problem either. Jared barely resists leaning into his touch, and Jensen has to smile at that as he works his way across Jared’s muscles, tweaking one nipple and watching Jared bite his lip involuntarily. Finally, he runs wet hands over Jared’s collarbone, wiping away the last of the bubbles, and reaches for the bottle of shampoo.

“Duck your head under the water again, please,” he says, and Jared complies immediately. His long brown hair floats around his face in the water until he surfaces, shaking like a wet dog.

“Washing a supervisor’s hair can be difficult,” Jensen says, letting his hands do most of the talking as they massage the shampoo into Jared’s scalp. “You’ll need to be very careful to avoid getting shampoo in someone’s eyes.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and Jensen untangles his hands from Jared’s hair, dipping them quickly in the tub.

“Rinse,” he directs, and Jared’s own fingers rise up to tousle his hair under the water, vigorously scrubbing away any remaining shampoo.

“That was an abbreviated version,” Jensen says when Jared resurfaces, “but I’m sure you get the idea. Lessons in bathing and in massage can continue after lunch and through the end of the week.”

“It’s time for lunch?” Jared asks.

Jensen takes his watch down from the towel rack, gives it a cursory glance as he puts it back on. His own internal clock is pretty damn accurate, but he always likes to have the reassurance.

“It’s about one in the afternoon,” he clarifies, and Jared nods. “Now why don’t you get out of the tub? Take the plug with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared’s exit is fairly graceful, if wet, and Jensen notices that his erection has subsided somewhat. He passes the kid an extra-large white towel.

“Make sure you dry yourself off properly,” he says. He can’t watch as Jared gingerly pats his back dry, focusing instead on using another towel to mop up the excess water from the floor. It’s not his job – they have a cleaning service specifically for the baths – but he doesn’t like leaving things messy. He drapes the towel neatly over a hook in the wall when he’s finished, and he sees Jared re-fastening the collar to his neck. There are goose bumps all over the boy’s body from stepping out of the hot water, and he’s clenching his jaw shut, possibly to stop his teeth from chattering.

“We’ll go back to my office so you can put on some clothes for lunch,” Jensen decides, and Jared smiles at him.

“Thank you, sir.”

Jensen buzzes Alona for lunch again. He knows there’s a cafeteria for interns and staff, but he’s going to avoid eating there if he can help it, and he’s sure Jared gets enough of it at breakfast and dinner. Jared dresses as they wait for the trays of burgers and French fries to arrive.

“So, Jared, what did you think of your first training session?” Jensen asks conversationally, and Jared shrugs at him.

“Is that a trick question, sir?” he asks.

Jensen indulges him with a small laugh. “No. I’m genuinely interested in hearing your thoughts.”

Jared looks down at his plate as he answers, one finger drawing lines through the pool of ketchup. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected, sir. The bath was actually…” he frowns, looking for the right word. “It was nice,” he finishes lamely.

Jensen nods. “What did you like about it?” he asks.

Jared’s still not looking at him as he raises the finger to his lips, licking off the gob of ketchup that he’s collected. “Well, you were right, I was kind of sweaty after running,” he says lightly. “It was nice to clean off.”

“Can you look at me when we’re talking, Jared?” Jensen reminds gently.

The finger leaves Jared’s mouth quickly as he looks up, and he wipes it hastily across his sweatpants.

“And could you please use your napkin in the future,” Jensen amends, smiling.

Jared lets out a guilty laugh. “Sorry, sir.”

“And you didn’t feel that you were being pressured into anything you didn’t want to do?” Jensen asks Jared, and the conflict is evident on Jared’s face when he answers.

“On one level, I don’t want to be here at all,” he says. “It’s not like I decided this was a good way to spend the rest of my life, sir. But no, I didn’t feel like you were going too fast, since I’m sure we’ll get to everything eventually.”

Jensen nods. It’s an honest answer, and he can respect that. “I’m here to try and help you make the best of your situation, Jared,” he says softly, and Jared nods.

“I appreciate that, sir,” he says, like he believes Jensen.

“Now, this afternoon, I thought we could focus more on the bathing,” Jensen explains. “It’s time for your pop quiz on what I showed you, so you’ll get a turn to bathe me.”

Jared smiles, not that dazzling grin, but good enough. “Technically it’s not a pop quiz, sir,” he says. “You did warn me it was coming.”

Jensen smiles back. “But it’s not your final exam either,” he says. “There’s a lot more ground to cover first.”

Jared does grin a little at that. “I never thought I’d be getting any more lessons in how to take a bath. Not since I was about seven.”

“Well, we learn new things every day,” Jensen says. “Are you just about done with lunch?”

Jared picks up his glass of milk and chugs the end of it, then looks at Jensen brightly, wiping his napkin across his lips in an exaggerated motion. “Yes, sir,” he says. “And now it’s back to bathing lessons, right?”

“Right. Consider this a diagnostic test to measure your aptitude before your final exam in bathing.”

“Or a practice exam.”

“Exactly.” Jensen doesn’t ask Jared to remove his clothes this time, just hands him the leash to snap on himself, and they return to the bathroom, Jared’s footsteps surer now that he’s walking a familiar route in clothes.

Sure enough, in the hour they’ve been gone, the wet towels have been removed and replaced with clean ones, and the floor has been mopped. The shampoo, shower cream, and bubbles sit neatly in a row.

“All right, kid, show me what you’ve learned,” Jensen says playfully, unsnapping Jared’s leash.

Jared purses his lips as though he’s trying to remember. “Okay. The hot water is the red faucet, and the cold water is the blue faucet,” he says, and his tone is definitely bordering on smartass this time, but Jensen lets it go. Because now it’s a game they’re both playing, and he can’t punish Jared for falling for his act.

“And on some truly ancient tubs, there’s actually a plug that you use as a stopper, rather than a switch,” he says, bending over the edge to fit the plug in.

He looks up at Jensen. “And will you be wanting bubbles today, sir?”

“I certainly will,” Jensen replies, and Jared reaches for the silver bottle without hesitation. Good memory.

“You’ve got to be very careful when pouring the bubbles,” Jared lectures, and predictably enough, he misjudges the weight of the bottle and a steady stream shoots into the tub. “Oh, crap, sir, I –”

“It’s alright, Jared,” Jensen says, taking the bottle and cap from his hands. “Really. You just need to learn to have a less immediate reaction to minor mistakes.”

Jared winces slightly. “Sorry, sir,” he apologizes. “Self-restraint’s a big one for interns, isn’t it?”

“Self-restraint is a valuable quality for anyone to have,” Jensen replies, and Jared nods his understanding at the platitude.

“Now, sir, I think you’ll have to undress unless you plan on taking a bath in your jeans,” he says brightly.

“Very observant, Jared,” Jensen agrees, and he begins unbuttoning his collared shirt. He drapes it over the folding chair in the corner before continuing with his shoes and socks, aware that Jared is watching him closely.

“Be careful not to let the tub overflow,” he reminds the kid, and Jared jumps to twist the faucets off.

“Sorry, sir,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine. Just pay attention to the task at hand.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide the amusement in his voice, and Jared blushes slightly, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Jensen as he unbuckles his belt and steps out of his jeans and boxers.

Jensen would normally be turned on in a situation like this, naked with a kid as pretty as Jared watching, but he’s become immune to the nature of his job in the three years he’s been taught it. Sex is business as usual, and he tests the water in the tub gently with his toes. It’s perfect, and he slips in immediately. He doesn’t allow himself to relax though. After all, Jared needs to be graded on his practice test.

“Do you remember what comes next?” he asks the kid, and Jared nods.

“Yes, sir. Gentle but penetrating massage with the body wash,” he says smugly, and Jensen smiles.

“Give it a try then.”

Jared’s hands are slow, unskilled, but it’s not altogether uncomfortable as the kid’s fingers creep up his leg, rubbing in the shower cream. Jared goes a little fast, probably already wanting to get it over with, but there’s a lot of raw potential that Jensen knows he can turn into something impressive.

Jared hesitates mid-thigh, and Jensen withdraws his leg. “Since you haven’t had any instructions yet regarding that particular area, it’s not included in today’s quiz,” he says calmly, and Jared grins weakly.

“Yes, sir.” He crosses over to the other side of the tub and begins work on the second leg. It’s a bit of a struggle for Jensen to keep from getting hard as Jared moves on to his stomach, but he _is_ a professional, and he manages.

Eventually, Jared finishes up with his shoulders, gentle fingers working into his biceps, and Jensen gives him an encouraging smile.

“Should I trust you with the shampoo, or give it another day?” he asks, and Jared grins.

“I’ll be careful, sir, I _promise_ ,” he says in a singsong voice.

Jensen frowns. “Very well, but if you get shampoo in my eyes, I’m pulling you in here with me.”

“Oh, and we wouldn’t want _that,_ ” Jared teases back. He retrieves the shampoo. “But your hair is short enough that we probably won’t need much shampoo at all. Duck your head under the water.”

Jensen holds his breath and goes under, running a hand through his short, spiky hair before he surfaces again and allows Jared to apply the shampoo.

True to his words, Jared is careful with the shampoo, using the minimum amount to adequately cover Jensen’s head, and rinsing his hands quickly in the water afterward. “I’m done,” he announces unnecessarily, and Jensen drops his head back into the water, cleaning his hair and rubbing a hand over his eyes as well.

Jensen steps carefully out of the tub, and Jared is at his side, handing him a clean towel. “So did I pass, sir?” he asks cheerfully.

Jensen accepts the towel, tousling his hair before tucking it around his waist as he begins to put his clothes back on.

“Well, let me see,” he says, pretending to consider. “I certainly give you an A for enthusiasm…. I’ll give you an A for water temperature as well… a B on the actual bathing, but you’ll improve… and I’m afraid you’re getting a D on the application of bubbles.”

Jared grins back at him. “I’ll study hard on the art of bubble pouring,” he says.

“Yes, well, see that you do.” Jensen zips his jeans and buckles his belt before sitting down on the folding chair to put his socks and shoes back on. He’s aware that Jared hasn’t stopped watching him the entire time, and he shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot as Jensen tightens his laces.

“Are…” he begins, then stops.

“Go ahead and ask, whatever your question is,” Jensen reminds him.

“Are we going to practice with the bubble pouring now, sir?” Jared asks, and Jensen hears the hopefulness in his voice. When taken in conjunction with his nervous bouncing, it’s pretty obvious what’s bothering the kid.

“No,” Jensen says slowly. “No, I thought we’d save the actual techniques for tomorrow.” He doesn’t need his watch to confirm that it’s just past three o’clock. It’s clear that Jared is wondering what comes next, waiting to be taken back to his cell, or given some new, almost certainly less pleasant lesson.

“Oh.” Jared does look vaguely unsettled, but he quickly disguises it with another smile.

 _Teacher’s pet,_ Jensen thinks but doesn’t say. “I thought we’d go back to my office and talk for a little while,” he says instead, and Jared nods his understanding.

“Yes, sir,” he says. It’s clear that Jared’s primary concern right now is maintaining the rapport he feels with Jensen. Not having things seem awkward between them, not upsetting Jensen. Jensen likes that just fine for now. When things get trickier, more _intimate_ , as they usually call it for delicacy, they’ll be butting heads more, and he’ll have to lay down the law, stop playing Mr. Nice Guy. But it doesn’t hurt while it lasts, and he finds it can help interns adjust quickly.

Now, for instance, Jared would probably answer any of his questions, no matter how uncomfortable, because he’s anxious to keep things the way they are. But Jensen’s primary interest isn’t in chiseling information from the kid; he’s sure Jared got enough of that at his hearing.

“We’ll get going then,” he says simply, handing over Jared’s leash, and the kid snaps it onto his collar without even a look. Already, it’s become routine. When he leaves a room, he does it on the end of a leash. _Really, it’s not so hard to remember, like picking up your keys as you walk out the door._ Jensen’s thought that before and hated himself for it, the way he hates himself a little now as Jared patiently waits for him to open the curtain leading to the larger bathroom and escort him back to the office.

Jensen unclips Jared’s leash as soon as they’re back in his office, before the door has even closed fully behind them. “Take a seat,” he suggests, gesturing at the two chairs in front of his desk. Jared takes the farther one, and Jensen pulls the second chair into position facing the one Jared has chosen and sits down across from the kid.

“So what did you think of the books?” he asks, and Jared smiles in relief as he answers.

“I really enjoyed them, sir. I mean, obviously the characters were kind of stupid, by our cultural standards, because we wouldn’t do anything like that today, but overall, it was a neat story. It had a sad ending though.”

“A bittersweet ending,” Jensen agrees. “Romeo and Juliet are both dead, but their families are united in their grief, and it ends the bitter, bloodthirsty feud that was responsible for their deaths.”

Jared nods his understanding. “So in reality, sir, their deaths can be seen as a sort of strategic sacrifice on a cosmic level,” he supplies. “It’s for the greater good that they kill themselves, because otherwise, who knows how many other people could have died, like Mercutio and Tybalt.”

And that’s exactly the meaning the kid was supposed to draw out of it. “Exactly. But you still find it sad?”

Jared shrugs. “It’s not like they set out to solve their parents’ idiotic grudges at any cost,” he says. “That wasn’t their goal. They were just two kids who fell in love and wanted to be together. Using their love to combat their families’ hate was just a nice bonus, until it didn’t work.”

“So you’re feeling sorry for them?” Jensen asks.

Jared shrugs. “In a way. I mean, sure, killing themselves over the other being dead seems kind of stupid now. We don’t really do that anymore, fall in love with other people more than we love ourselves, do we, sir? But if they were soul mates, or destined for each other or whatever, then maybe they didn’t have another choice.”

“On some level there’s always a choice,” Jensen argues, playing devil’s advocate even as he gives the kid a refresher course in the Philosophy of the Nation.

Jared shakes his head. “On some level, maybe, but most of the circumstances were out of their control,” he says. “They didn’t choose for their parents to be sworn enemies, and they didn’t really choose to fall in love either. It just happened.”

“But they both had the choice to accept the circumstances and move on, or to fight back and die themselves,” Jensen says, and Jared snorts.

“Some choice,” he says. “How would you like it if you were fourteen years old and your one true love was already gone? The best times of your life were over? What’s there to look forward to, sir?”

Jensen laughs a little at Jared’s enthusiasm. “I’m not sure I really believe in a ‘one true love,’” he says. “Do you?”

Jared considers. “I’m not really sure,” he says. “I guess I’m too young to know yet.”

“So you think you still have your whole life to find out?” Jensen probes gently, and Jared shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says, trying to sound casual. “Three months ago, I would have said yes. But now I don’t know what the rest of my life is going to look like, not really.”

“But you’re still accepting it and moving on,” Jensen says. “That’s a choice you’ve made.”

“It’s a choice I’ve made for now,” Jared says, looking him straight in the eyes. “It’s not necessarily permanent.”

That isn’t how the conversation was supposed to go.

Jensen isn’t sure how to respond, so after a moment he glosses over the remark. “So, what about the other characters?” he asks, trying to make the transition as smooth as possible. That’s one good side to Shakespeare. There’s never a shortage of characters.

At five o’clock, after an hour and a half of vigorous analysis, Jensen takes pity on the kid. He’s smart as hell, true, and Jensen’s amazed at how long they’ve kept the conversation going, even more amazed at how much he’s enjoyed it. Jared must have been a damn good English student.

“It’s getting a bit late,” he says, and he leans over to turn on the lamp beside his desk. “What do you say to eating dinner here?”

Jared smiles. “That would be great, sir,” he says, and Jensen buzzes Alona.

“I’ll give the Shakespeare a rest too,” he says with a laugh, and Jared grins.

“Thank God,” he says fervently. “It’s not that I didn’t like the story, but my head was starting to hurt.”

“So what would you like to talk about instead, Jared?” Jensen asks, and Jared hesitates. “Anything is alright by me, and if it’s not, I’ll tell you,” he reminds the kid.

Jared nods. “Okay. You know those questions you asked me yesterday? Um – how would you answer them?”

Jared’s question isn’t exactly a new one, but Jared looks as though he’s about to crawl under Jensen’s desk from embarrassment. “Sure, kid, no problem,” Jensen says easily. “I’ve had sexual intercourse with both men and women. It kind of comes with the job description, you know? And, having never been an intern at a facility, I’ve never been taken advantage of by an intern or supervisor. As far as my sexual orientation is concerned, I consider myself gay, which is why I don’t accept female interns as clients. After three years of training I’ve earned the right to be picky.” He pauses, takes a look at Jared, who’s watching him shyly. “Does that answer your questions?”

“I... I guess so, sir.” Jared’s voice is uncertain.

“If you have any more questions, Jared, now _is_ the time to ask them.”

Jared nods. “Do you... do you only take male interns because you get sexually aroused by your job, sir?”

Well. That’s a blunt question. “Well, you were listening when I said you could ask me anything, huh?” Jensen asks Jared, and Jared blushes.

“Yes, sir,” he says, his eyes betraying the worry that he’s gone too far.

“To answer your question, I suppose that might be part of it. I’m not attracted to women, and I don’t find them particularly rewarding to train. But that doesn’t mean that I only train interns because I’m using it as a way to have sex. I’m not.”

“You don’t look like you would need to, sir,” Jared says honestly, and Jensen’s so surprised he almost chokes himself laughing over that one.

“Well, thank you for that, Jared. I’ll take it as my ego boost for the day.”

Jared smiles. “You're welcome, sir. I really did mean it though.”

Jensen nods. “I’d like to make something clear, Jared, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared looks at him a little cautiously, apprehensive of being told he’s doing something wrong, Jensen’s sure.

“Most of the time, I see my job as exactly that: a job. I don't get off on training interns, per se. It’s also not difficult for me to separate sex and pleasure in my head.”

“Yes, sir.”

The kid isn’t really getting it. “You’re going to be learning this too over the next few days, Jared. And you’re probably going to be glad once you do. Sex is just like anything else unless you attach emotions to it. In my case, I guess the emotions I’m most in danger of feeling are lust and affection. In your case, right now, they’re probably anger and fear. Although that could change as you become more comfortable, and should change once you’re placed with Mr. Morgan.”

Jared nods his understanding. “Yes, sir.”

“But the thing about most of what we do here – it’s formulaic. That’s why we train you. We condition you for actions that will produce a desired response – in this case, sexual stimulation. And while I’m sure Mr. Morgan will allow himself to develop love and affection for you, that’s not my prerogative, because I have you for a month or less before you’re finished and we both move on. And I can’t develop attachments to interns like that.”

“I understand.”

“Whereas you probably have no inclination to develop attachments to anyone, least of all me,” Jensen finishes. “And that’s perfectly all right. Your training over the next few weeks is going to be all about taking the emotions and the attachments and the resentments out of sex. We’ll turn it into a purely physical experience. No guilt, no emotions, just a series of muscle memories and responses.”

“So you’re basically saying I should separate myself from the sex.” Jared’s not a dumb kid, even if Jensen’s shit at explanations that don’t come straight from pamphlets displayed on Alona’s desk.

“Yes, exactly.” He frowns. “In a way. It will help you to cope better if you don’t put much of yourself into what you’re doing. But either way, within a few days it’s going to be second nature for you to think of it as a job. Because in a way it is your job, the same as it’s my job.”

“Except you get to call the shots,” Jared observes, a trace of bitterness in his voice that he quickly overrides with a respectful, “Sir.”

Jensen laughs. “So think of me as your general manager if that helps. We’re doing the same job, but I have seniority and higher pay.”

“Do you ever enjoy the sex?” Jared asks, ignoring the opportunity to become angry and point out that he isn’t getting paid at all, he’s a political prisoner doing what it takes to keep from having the living shit beat out of him in a general facility, or, eventually, a cell where the world forgets him entirely.

Jensen considers, then nods. “Sometimes,” he says. “If an intern picks everything up well, and we have a good rapport.” That was rare enough during his own schooling, but not unheard of.

“So you don’t do it just for the sex?” Jared repeats, like he’s stuck on that one point.

“Not really, Jared, I don't.” Jensen knows he sounds a little annoyed, and that probably makes him seem defensive and like he’s a lying bastard, which he is in a way, but he’s serious about it just being a job for him. Now, if more of the interns looked like Jared, it might not be.

“Then why do you do it, sir?” Jared asks. “I’m not trying to be insubordinate, I just want to know. What made you decide to become a personal trainer?”

The million-dollar question.

“When I was about your age, or a little older, I wasn’t sure what to do with my life,” he says. It’s not a lie. “My godfather suggested I go to a technical college, and offered to pay for it. I accepted the offer, took the courses, did the residency, and now, three years later, here I am.”

Jared seems to accept the answer. He nods, and doesn’t ask another question. A silence falls over the office.

“Would you like another book to take back with you this evening?” Jensen asks suddenly, hoping to get on the kid’s good side again. “You can take your time reading it.”

Jared smiles. “Yes, please,” he says, and Jensen nods.

“Here, you can pick one out from my bookshelf.”


	4. Chapter Three

_October 28th, 2076_

It’s not like Jensen isn’t amused by Jared’s jokes and their easy conversations, because he is, and he enjoys them. He’s damn glad that the kid seems to be taking to him so well, and he really hopes that Jared is able to keep it up for the duration of his training. He’d much rather have a kid who maintains his own personality and sense of identity, one who cooperates out of logic rather than being forced, and one who isn’t completely boring company for his working hours every day, weeks on end.

But there’s a very important distinction between appropriate behavior outside training and appropriate behavior during training, when Jensen is essentially standing in for the interns’ supervisors—in Jared’s case, for Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who would most likely not appreciate banter and familiarity from a personal intern. So that’s one of the first things Jensen has to make clear to Jared on his second full day of training.

Jared’s been behaving himself well enough that his hands aren’t cuffed when he arrives at Jensen’s office, and Jensen smiles. “Good morning, Jared,” he says kindly.

“Good morning, sir,” Jared answers. His voice is clearer, and he looks like he’s gotten some sleep. He smiles shyly at Jensen, who nods his head gently.

“You can take off the leash, Jared,” he tells the kid, and Jared moves to obey, the long fingers folding the leash gently and placing it on the desk. “In fact, I’d like you to take off the leash automatically when we’re in my office, if you think you can do that for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, and Jensen grins.

“Great. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, and Jared sits down obediently. Jensen crosses around to take the other seat. It’s professional, removed.

“You’re still getting medical treatment for your back, Jared, correct?” he asks, and Jared looks him in the eyes as he answers.

“Yes, sir. The doctor here is seeing me in the mornings and when I get back from training.”

“And he’s treating you all right?”

Jared affirms this with a small nod. “Yes, sir. He’s very kind to me.”

“No problems with any of the guards or other interns?”

“No, sir. I don’t really see the other interns. I spend most of my time in a cell.” The kid’s voice is steady throughout the exchange, although Jensen’s willing to bet the isolation is nearly killing him. It makes his job that much easier though. Most of the interns Jensen’s seen during his residency are anxious to get along with the trainers, to spend as much time as possible with someone who will actually interact with them.

Then there are the ones who act like prisoners of war, answer in monosyllables, never really make eye contact and don’t get anywhere. But Jensen’s already sure that Jared’s not going to be one of those. He’s much too outgoing, much too bright; he couldn’t stand it. He thrives on social interaction, and that’s going to be a lot of help during the training process.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not having problems,” Jensen says, and he doesn’t call Jared on the quick, almost imperceptible grimace. “Now I’d like to go through our plans for the week.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared is still meeting his eyes, alert and attentive, and Jensen thinks that if the kid picks everything up this easily, he’ll breeze through training in no time. Less than a month, certainly, and Jensen’s willing to bet it doesn’t take more than three weeks flat.

“We’re going to work some with massages this afternoon,” he says, and Jared nods his head to signify that he understands. “Of course, massaging and bathing are very closely related, and we’ll be focusing more on technique for today and tomorrow. This will include full-body massage, with genitalia and hand jobs, Jared.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says. “I understand.”

“Good boy.” Jensen gives him an encouraging smile, and Jared smiles back at him, but both expressions are completely empty. “Now, our training sessions can get a little intense, as I’m sure you’re aware. So I’m going to ask that you respect our roles during the training sessions themselves and treat me as you would any other supervisor. Of course this doesn’t apply to asking questions for clarification or if something is wrong, but I need to make sure that you understand we will both be acting in a professional capacity at the time, and a minimal amount of professionalism is required.”

“I do understand that, sir.” Jared sounds sincere, and Jensen nods his approval.

“I’m here to help make this transition as easy as possible for you, and I’d like you to think of me as someone you can get along with and express yourself with, and that’s why we don’t spend all our time together training,” he explains. “I like to build up a strong relationship with my interns, and I find it makes the training much easier when we have a sort of basic understanding and mutual trust. But there are differences between appropriate behavior inside and outside of training sessions, and there are boundaries.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees readily. “I can respect those boundaries.”

“I’m sure you can,” Jensen says with a small smile. “But just to make sure, I’d like to request that we keep the conversation to the task at hand during actual sessions. We’ll talk shop, if you like. And outside training sessions, we won’t limit ourselves to that.”

“That sounds perfectly fine to me, sir,” Jared says.

Jensen nods as he rises. “Excellent. We can have our first practice in talking shop now then,” he says. “If you could put your leash back on, we’ll return to the bathroom.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and he does pretty damn well. He’s a smart kid, after all. He’s attentive and respectful as Jensen walks him through the same steps they practiced yesterday, mimicking Jensen’s motions.

“And of course you were having trouble yesterday pouring the bubbles,” Jensen remembers. “Can you bring them here?”

Jared obeys instantly, back at Jensen’s side holding the slim bottle.

“Wonderful.” Jensen reaches toward Jared and the bottle, and the kid offers it to him. “No, keep your hand there, Jared,” Jensen says softly, and Jared nods. Jensen’s fingers close over Jared’s, dry and warm and a little tense.

“Now,” Jensen says, “you’ve got to maintain control of your hands. Really, it’s all in the wrist.” He pours a sample of bubble mixture into the cap, Jared’s hand still trapped beneath his, and then pours that into the tub. It’s then that he realizes that Jared’s eyes are on him, not the bottle.

“Now you try,’ he says, releasing Jared’s hand and the bubbles, and Jared flushes a little and nods. He gets it mostly right this time, even if he’s a little sloppy, and Jensen allows it.

“Now, can you get in the tub for me?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and his hands are at his neck, unbuckling his collar and laying it on the towel rack. Jensen watches him as he strips, a little less self-conscious already. Yeah, Jared’s a damn smart kid.

\---

After lunch back in his office, Jensen walks over to the corner and begins placing the folding mats down on the floor in the center of the room. Jared watches as he transforms the tiles into a softer surface, foam covered in blue vinyl.

“Jared,” Jensen says, meeting his eyes with all business. “I’d like you to strip and lay face down on the mats, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees softly. His face still gets red as he undresses himself under Jensen’s careful gaze. This time, however, he meets Jensen’s eyes, and even if his hands shake a little as he pulls down his navy sweats, Jensen doesn’t say anything.

He places himself carefully across the mats, burying his face in his arms. Jensen tries not to flinch at the sight of the kid’s back. It’s cleared up a good bit, with the bruises almost completely faded, and the scabbing seems to be nearing an end, but it doesn’t change the fact that it has to be hurting the kid like hell. He wonders briefly if Jared is on any pain medication, but imagines he’s not on anything more than an Advil and a multivitamin, maybe some arnica taken internally so it won’t burn where the scars are still scabbing over. Interns need to be sharp, and if Jared’s moved on to personal training, he’s not going to be kept drugged.

“I’m not going to do any work on your back today, Jared,” he says gently. “In fact, I’m not going to do any work on your back until you let me know it’s alright. So I’m trusting you to tell me when it’s not so painful anymore, and after that I’ll include it in the massaging.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared’s voice is muffled by his arms, but it’s still clear enough what he’s saying. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Jared. It’s my job.” Jensen selects the lavender scented oil from the cabinet to use. Lavender, according to the parent company, both soothes and stimulates. And if there’s something an intern needs early on in the process, it’s lavender. He can feel the tenseness in Jared’s muscles from five feet away, and when he sits down beside the kid’s prone form, he can see how uncomfortable he is with the entire situation.

“I’m going to need you to relax, Jared,” he says, still in the same soft voice. “That will make this a lot easier.”

“Okay – I mean, yes, sir,” is Jared’s response, and Jensen rests his hand lightly on the kid’s ass.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and he begins massaging the oil into the kid’s skin.

Jared may be unenthusiastic about his future, but he’s still a seventeen-year-old boy, and he shifts uncomfortably under Jensen’s hands, although he doesn’t make a sound or ask Jensen to stop. It’s fairly obvious what’s bothering him.

“It’s okay, Jared,” Jensen says, applying the massage oil to Jared’s inner thighs. “Arousal is a perfectly normal reaction to being touched in such an intimate way. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared mumbles, but he doesn’t relax his muscles until Jensen has been working at his calves for several minutes.

 _He’s going to love this next part,_ Jensen thinks dryly.

“I’ll need you to turn over, please, Jared,” he says smoothly. “I’m not going to ask you to lie on your back today, but I need to get to your chest and shoulders.”

Jared stiffens again, but complies, pulling himself up and half-sitting, half-reclining, propping himself up on his elbows.

Jensen works deep into Jared’s shoulders, feeling the tension, trying to take away some of the stress, and Jared responds to his touch almost against his will, relaxing into it, letting Jensen get to him under his skin.

He’s too fucking beautiful. The way he tries to stop himself from leaning into Jensen’s hands, the way he blushes heavily when Jensen’s gaze travels below his navel.

“We’re moving on to the next step of your training today,” Jensen tells him, and Jared freezes, muscles clenching tight.

“Yes, sir,” he says finally, through gritted teeth.

“It’ll proceed a lot like yesterday – I’ll demonstrate to you and we’ll address any questions you might have before we decide to move on to practical application.”

“Yes, sir.” He hadn’t expected Jared to be thrilled about it, but the kid is all but shutting down, shutting him out, ready to go through the motions like a regular prisoner of war.

Which, in a way, he is, but it’s Jensen’s job to make sure he doesn’t act like it.

“I imagine you already know a fair amount about hand jobs,” he says easily, making it seem like a joke, but Jared doesn’t rise to his bait.

“So we’ll just go over the basic mechanics, make sure you know what’s expected of you,” he continues. “And remember, Jared, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, and Jensen sets to work.

Jared’s cock is as sizable as the rest of him, and it’s not like Jensen hasn’t noticed it, but this is the first real chance he’s given himself to devote his full attention to it. Jared is still half hard despite himself, and that makes it all the easier for Jensen to begin working him back up again, practiced fingers stroking carefully, watching Jared struggle against his response to Jensen’s hands.

He isn’t going to dive in with lectures on technique and anatomy right off the bat – he has a feeling Jared will be more receptive when he’s relaxed, anyway – and so he focuses only on getting the intern off as quickly as possible. He strokes firmly, cupping Jared’s balls with his left hand and squeezing gently as he speeds up, fist sliding easily up Jared’s dick, slick with the lavender oil.

He can tell easily when Jared’s getting close to the edge – the kid’s as easy to read as that young adult crap he thought he might end up giving him – and he catches Jared’s right hand in his left, allowing Jared’s weight to be balanced on the other side.

“Like this,” he says simply, guiding Jared’s hand to finish himself off, and they stroke together. Jared bites his lip and comes silently, shaking, in Jensen’s hands.

Jensen isn’t sure whether to make some sort of friendly comment – _now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?_ – but decides against it when he looks at Jared’s face. He walks over to the sink, washes his hands without speaking.

Jared stares at the ground, and Jensen feels like a Grade A asshole.

“Come on, kid,” he says softly. “Let’s go to the gym.”

Jared runs like he’s trying to go fast enough to lose sight of everything, and Jensen slouches against the wall and watches him. He nods along with whatever Chris is saying about the kid, but he’s not listening. He’s waiting for the moment when Jared realizes he’s not getting anywhere.

Jensen plans on just sending Jared back to his cell when he tires himself out, but he guesses he’s a sucker for pretty boys who need him. The dull look in Jared’s eyes is enough to convince him to go back to his first idea.

“You want to come back and get dinner with me before you go back to the cells for the night?” he asks, not unkindly.

Jared’s wary, but he nods anyway. “Okay, sir,” he says, sighing a little.

Jensen doesn’t push him to talk or share or even think about the afternoon. They eat dinner quietly, no strings attached, and when Jared goes back to his cell, he’s standing a little taller again, looking a little less defeated.

It’s a good look on him.

 _October 29th, 2076_

Jensen’s pretty sure that Jared’s going to fight him when it comes down to the actual training part the next day, and he’s not looking forward to it. He makes small talk for as long as he can, asking how Jared slept, and making a big show over looking at his back.

Jared, for his part, seems determined to act as though nothing is wrong, and maybe he came to terms with some things in his cell last night, but he’s doing a damn good job. He answers Jensen easily, but without too much familiarity. He does a better job of maintaining eye contact than Jensen’s ever seen him do.

When Jensen asks him to lose the shirt and bend over, he complies immediately, presenting his back for inspection without a moment’s hesitation.

Jensen isn’t sure when the other shoe is going to drop, and he almost misses Jared’s uncertainty, the way Jared lowers his eyes before asking a wildly inappropriate and completely unsettling question. He’s not stupid enough to think that he’s already won Jared over and reconciled him to his fate. There’s a lot more fight in the kid than that, he’s pretty sure.

But in the meantime, it’ll make his job a damn sight easier for as long as Jared cooperates.

He runs his fingers lightly over Jared’s back. The bruises have faded almost completely, just a few yellow splotches of skin where he’d had particularly bad welts on Monday. The scars underneath are healing up nicely too, with only one of them still scabbed over at one end.

“Does it hurt to be touched?” he asks as his fingers trace the marks. Jared’s skin is warm under his hand.

“Not like that, sir, no,” Jared says. “But if you put too much pressure on it, then yes. Sir.”

Jensen’s hand pauses. “We’ll give it another day then,” he says. He takes a step back, allowing Jared to stand up again. His palm tingles where it rested against the kid, and that’s not a good thing. He needs to be in control.

“So, Jared,” he asks, still going for nonchalant, “are you ready to pick up where we left off yesterday?” He regrets the words the minute they come out of his mouth – he shouldn’t have phrased it as a question, like Jared actually had a say in it – but to his surprise, Jared nods his head.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and he walks over to the corner and begins to unfold the mats of his own accord. After laying them out on the floor, he strips off his sweatpants and straightens, facing Jensen. Waiting for direction.

Jensen tries not to let his shock show on his face. He nods his approval instead, walking purposefully over to stand beside his intern. _Jeff Morgan’s_ intern.

“Now Jared, I want you to recline on your elbows like yesterday,” he says carefully.

Jared drops to the mats, half-reclines without being told twice. “Yes, sir,” he answers. And Jensen realizes the kid is watching him, waiting for some sort of approval.

“Very good,” he murmurs, surveying the length of Jared’s body. Jared tenses slightly as he kneels down and places one hand on Jared’s thigh.

“I’d like you to relax for me,” he says softly. And Jared bites his lip for a split second, then complies shakily.

“We’re going to be focusing more on actual technique today,” Jensen says, and he runs his hand higher up Jared’s leg, almost touching Jared’s balls. To his credit, Jared doesn’t move away.

“While the cock is obviously the focal point of a full-body massage,” Jensen says, keeping his voice down, trying not to spook Jared, “most of the time you’re going to want to place a heavy emphasis on the balls too. Touching, fondling, rubbing – you understand.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says. His voice is soft too, but steady, and he’s growing half-hard at the physical contact.

Jensen flicks his thumb across Jared’s inner thigh, feeling the tight skin and the muscle underneath. “Later in your training, we’ll be focusing a lot on your anus and perineum,” he says, the words sounding out of place and clinical in this position. “But today we’re working with the front door, and that’s probably where your attentions to your supervisor should normally fall. Mr. Morgan will, of course, let you know more about his exact preferences after your initial training is complete.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says.

Jensen sits back on his heels and reaches for the lavender massage oil, resting on top of the cabinets rather than in its place. He warms it in his hands and begins to trace his way back up Jared’s thighs.

“Once again, Jared, if you come during training, it’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” he says. “But since we’re focusing on technique, I just want you to hold off as long as you can. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared responds. His eyes aren’t shut, or staring firmly at the ceiling. They’re focused on Jensen’s hands.

“Start with the base of the cock,” Jensen directs, grasping the shaft with his left hand, and Jared catches his breath. He springs to full hardness almost instantly as Jensen’s hands stroke upwards, soft with the oil.

“Rhythm can be adjusted, as can grip strength,” Jensen says, a little less evenly as he increases his own speed with his right hand, dropping the left down to Jared’s balls.

And maybe he’s not being entirely fair on the kid, because he’s a professional, but Jared doesn’t last long at all before he’s throwing his head back and coming again, this time grunting heavily.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he apologizes breathlessly. Jensen’s hands are still on his thighs.

“It’s not a problem, kid,” he says, and Jared smiles shyly. “Now how about you start telling me some of what you remember about massage?”

Jared looks down at his chest, splattered with come. “Can I – may I –?” he begins, and Jensen smiles.

“Not a problem.” He hands Jared a soft cloth from the cabinets, and begins stripping off his clothes.

Jared squats back down on the mat, reaching for the massage oil. “Would you like me to go over the whole massage, sir, or… focus on the genital area?” he asks uncertainly.

Jensen looks him up and down. “Whichever is easier for you, Jared,” he says.

He’s surprised again when the kid places himself besides Jensen’s chest and slicks up his hands, then reaches for Jensen’s semi-erect dick.

He doesn’t speak as he works, frowning with concentration. His hands are uncertain around Jensen, and it’s painfully obvious that the kid’s never done this before. His strokes are uneven, his grip is too loose, and he looks like he’s afraid Jensen’s going to shoot in his eyes at any moment.

There’s no danger of that, not with the way Jared’s handling him. There’s potential there, sure, but he has a lot to learn, and even Jensen is not that easy.

Jared lets out a frustrated sigh almost in spite of himself, then looks horrified, and Jensen has to smile.

“Hey, kid, relax,” he says, and Jared lets out another long, shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “Really, I am, I just –”

“Hey, stop,” Jensen says, holding up a hand to cut Jared off. “It’s okay. Really. I’m not expecting you to give a world-class hand job your first time. You wait, and we’ll have you acting like a pro in no time.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, apparently relieved.

“Here,” Jensen says. “We’ll try it this way.” He shifts his weight to his left elbow, then captures Jared’s right hand in his. Jared’s hand is larger, with long, slender fingers, but Jensen manages to guide it around his dick without any problems.

“Like this,” he says, tightening his grip around Jared’s hand so that the intern reflexively follows suit. He moves Jared’s hand up and down in slow, even motions, and begins to relax into the feeling. “Just like that,” he says, and let his hand drop to the mat.

Jared continues, ostensibly focusing on his cock but eying his face surreptitiously for any signs of approval or disapproval. Jensen closes his eyes to try and enjoy the sensation of Jared’s hand on him.

“And then you can change the speed or intensity,” Jared almost whispers. He tightens his grip and speeds up, apparently hoping for some sort of reaction. And Jensen’s taking pity on the kid, he really is, so he summons up a mental image of Jared bent over for him, willingly submitting, and reaches down to help Jared bring him to orgasm.

“I sucked, didn’t I?” Jared asks miserably, washing his hands vigorously in the sink. “Sir.”

“I told you, Jared, you’re fine,” Jensen says again. After all, the kid is adorable, and so anxious to succeed. Jensen’s getting… _fond_ of Jared, despite himself. “We have plenty of time to practice, too.”

Jared looks like he’s about to make some petulant retort when a knock sounds on the door. Before Jensen can even respond, it swings open, revealing Danneel Harris and one of the guards.

“Oh, my, well, it looks like training is coming along wonderfully,” Danneel says brightly, looking up and down at the two of them, naked save for Jared’s collar.

“It certainly is,” Jensen says quickly. Jared is blushing a bright red, all over. “Jared, can you say hello to Miss Harris?”

Jared flushes even deeper. “Hello, ma’am,” he says, eyes fixed on the ground.

Danneel laughs, but it’s not unkind. “Hello, Jared,” she responds. “Now, Jared, I need to speak with Mr. Ackles, and it’s almost time for lunch to be served in the cafeteria, so I thought you could go eat with the other interns today and return after lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jared says, and he begins dressing quickly. Jensen fixes Danneel with a smile.

“Should we talk over food too?” he asks, and she smiles back.

“I already ordered some with Alona,” she says, and she takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He pulls on his clothes quickly to sit opposite her, even though that means facing away from Jared as he’s taken to lunch.

“So,” he says, hearing the door close behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Danneel’s eyes twinkle. “What, I can’t just come in to have lunch with the hottest new trainer at Wise County?” she asks, and Jensen laughs with her.

He really does like Danneel, he thinks wistfully. She’s attractive, smart, funny… and very, very female. Well, it’s always good to have friendly coworkers.

“In all seriousness, though, I wondered how training was going,” she says, once again making that remarkable shift from fun and games to strictly business.

Jensen nods, trying not to look like he’s having to think about how to respond. “Training’s going well,” he says. “Going well. I mean, well, as well as could be expected. Jared hasn’t really had much sexual experience before now.”

“But it looks to me like you’re making a great deal of progress on that front,” Danneel says slyly, and Jensen laughs again.

“Well, I’m certainly trying,” he says easily. “We’re just working on hand jobs right now, and he’s not exactly a natural.”

“I’m sure he’s improving rapidly though,” Danneel says.

Jensen nods. “Well, we’re both trying,” he says, and laughs again. “I think that after another afternoon of working on it, he’ll really have improved.”

Danneel smiles understandingly. “You and Jared have had a lot of late afternoons,” she says. “He’s been getting dinner with you here most nights, is that right?”

Jensen can feel his ears getting hot. “Uhh, yes, he has,” he says, trying for casual. He knows he and Jared have been spending a lot of time together – more than his contract requires, easily – but he’s been enjoying it, and so has the kid, and where’s the harm in that?

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” Danneel says, like she’s reading his mind. Was he that transparent? “Some interns do require more personal attention than others, and given Jared’s condition when he arrived here, I’m sure the extra time has been beneficial in building your relationship.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Jensen says, and he’s fully aware that he probably sounds like an idiot.

“I’m sure,” Danneel says again, frowning when her cell phone beeps at her waist. “Oops, I think that’s the food.”

Danneel, as it turns out, had ordered them both salads with grilled tuna and goat cheese, which Jensen shuffles around on his plate and pretends to eat.

“No, I think Jared’s behavior has really improved since he’s been here at Wise,” Danneel says. “The guards are reporting that he’s been a model intern, particularly the past few days. We haven’t seen any of the behavioral issues referenced in his file.”

Jensen takes a swig of his unsweetened tea. “Well, and you have to remember that those issues were reported in general facilities, and there was definitely some excessive force used on Jared while in custody at Lake Waco. I think it’s not unreasonable to think those reports may have been exaggerated.”

“Oh, naturally,” Danneel says. “But you haven’t noticed any problems with Jared?”

Jensen considers. “Well, he has a penchant for asking uncomfortable questions,” he says honestly, “but that seems to be toned down this morning. No, overall, I’d have to say he’s a pretty good kid.”

“For an intern,” Danneel amends, and he nods.

“Oh, yeah, well, of course. For an intern. No, I haven’t had any real problems with him though.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Danneel says, and she sounds sincere. “So… not to beat a dead horse, but how would you describe your relationship with Jared?”

“My… _professional_ relationship?” Jensen asks, then plunges ahead, without waiting for an answer when he realizes how stupid that sounds. “Um… really, I guess it’s fine. He’s a good kid. I guess he gets a little too familiar sometimes, but I’ve been trying to discourage that, and again, haven’t noticed anything like it this morning. No, he seems fine.”

He realizes as he speaks that there’s a lot more to Jared than that. That he knows Jared isn’t getting his insolence or his uncomfortable questions trained out of him at all. He’s just waiting for the right moment to bring them back up again. The kid has spunk.

He doesn’t say any of that to Danneel though.

“Wonderful,” she says. “That’s fantastic, Jensen. You really seem to be getting through to him.”

“Well, I am certainly trying,” Jensen says again, and that’s the truth.

“In fact, it really doesn’t look like you need my help with Jared at all,” Danneel says, smiling. “You seem to have everything under control.”

Jensen smiles back. “Well, thank you, Danneel,” he says. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Danneel says, glancing at a decorative watch on her wrist, “I think I should go prepare for a meeting with another client. Thank for getting lunch with me, Jensen. We should do it again soon.”

“Definitely,” Jensen agrees, and he sees her out the door out of courtesy.

Then he presses the buzzer. “Alona? This is Jensen. Could I have a couple of burgers sent over? Yeah, it’s going to be a long afternoon.”

An afternoon of teaching Jared how to make a man fall apart in his hands, then an evening with Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Jensen was going to need a lot more than a few bites of tuna and designer lettuce to see him through.

\---

“Thanks for stopping by, Jensen,” Jeff says, and Jensen smiles.

“It’s no problem. Besides, I’ve missed Alex,” he says, stroking the cat between the ears. Alex purrs loudly, kneading his claws into the arm of the sofa where he’s sidled up to Jensen, hoping for attention.

“Are things getting any easier with the intern?” Jeff asks bluntly. Leave it to Jeff to get to the point.

Jensen winces. He had hoped to leave that an hour away at the facility, but no such luck. “Sort of. I mean, it’s just a different dynamic. And there’s no way to get ready for it.” He knows he’s basically repeating what he’d said on the phone earlier, but it’s the truth. He wasn’t prepared for Jared, with his energy and his earnestness, his drive for asking the questions Jensen can’t answer and the way his hands have become surer, more intent on pleasing Jensen.

“But you’re handling everything.” It’s not phrased as a question, but Jensen feels the prickle of insecurity, worries that Jeff thinks he can’t do this.

“Of course I am,” he says, too quickly. “Jared’s picking everything up quickly. He’s a smart kid, like you said. A natural, even.”

“That’s good.” Jeff is watching him closely, and Jensen looks away, focuses on the cat in his lap instead. “I was a little worried that he might be too much to handle, coming in with a record like his.”

“He’s fine,” Jensen says. “A good kid. Eager to please.” He can feel his face getting hot under Jeff’s scrutiny, thinking about Jared’s hands on his thighs, cupping his balls. Thinking about Jared’s eyes meeting his, filled with equal parts worry and hope as he tries to do everything just right. Thinking about their conversations in between training, and the way Jared’s face lights up when he laughs. “He’s fine.”

“And you’re fine too?” Jeff asks, not unsympathetically. “No problems with emotions?”

He reads Jensen too well. Always has. And Jensen can’t lie to him, the way he lied to Danneel. And why is it that everyone is watching him, waiting for him to fuck up? He swallows hard.

“It’s harder than I expected,” he says honestly. “It’s more intense, and sometimes it throws me off balance. But it’s not interfering with the job. And it won’t.”

“That’s good,” Jeff says again. “Because you know that can’t happen, Jensen.”

“I know,” Jensen snaps. “It won’t.”

“I’m sure it’s easy to fall into feeling something for him,” Jeff says, not letting it go. “He’s young, he’s pretty, and he’s latching onto you pretty heavily right now because you’re his only point of real human contact. And then there’s the sex.”

“I don’t have a problem understanding that sex isn’t love,” Jensen says. He’s getting flustered and angry with Jeff for inviting him over for dinner and then springing a lecture on him.

“I know you’ve had a lot of experience with the sex aspect,” Jeff says readily. “But this emotional connection isn’t doing you any favors. And I just want to make sure you know that it’s transitory. There are going to be other interns after Jared, lots of them, and it’s not your job to be their friend, or to bond with them, or to imagine you have feelings for them.”

Jensen picks Alex up and deposits him on the table, despite a mew of protest, then stands up himself.

“Thank you, Jeff, for dinner, and for having my best interests in mind,” he says coldly, “but I’ve been getting ready for this job for three years, and I don’t need you telling me how to do it. I’ve been getting through to Jared, and I’m doing it well, in case you wondered.”

He’s sure Jeff will have a response for that too, but he’s reverted back to a teenager, back in this house, listening to Jeff instruct him about responsibility and patriotism and all the other words that made his skin crawl. He turns on his heels and walks out of the house, knowing it will make Jeff think he’s exactly right about Jensen having a problem, and not thinking straight enough to care.

 _October 30th, 2076_

Jensen’s sitting at his desk the next morning, mentally preparing himself for the day, when his phone rings. It’s Jeff, he sees, and he’s tempted to decline the call, but he answers it instead, his voice as cold and professional as he can make it.

“Jensen Ackles,” he says, letting Jeff know exactly how he still feels.

“Jensen.” Jeff’s voice is heavy, and Jensen rolls his eyes, knowing Jeff can’t see him and fully expecting his godfather to start into another lecture.

“You were right about what I said to you last night. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to do your job, and I apologize. I just want to make sure you don’t put yourself in any compromising positions, especially this early in your career.”

Jensen’s taken aback, but that doesn’t mean he’s not grateful. “Well… thank you, Jeff,” he says finally. “I appreciate that.”

“Just be careful, Jensen,” Jeff urges him. “Whatever you’re feeling, it isn’t love, and it’s not worth risking everything you’ve worked for.”

He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Thank you,” Jensen says, gritting his teeth. “I do appreciate the concern. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” He hangs up without waiting for an answer, and Jeff takes the hint and doesn’t call him back.

When Jared comes in, he removes the leash out of force of habit, setting it on Jensen’s desk. Jensen is still sitting there, clenching his hands together. He cracks his knuckles, not looking at the intern.

Jared is clearly surprised by Jensen’s lack of greeting. “Good morning, sir,” he offers, when Jensen still refuses to acknowledge him.

“Good morning, Jared,” Jensen responds, and when he hears the sarcasm in his own voice he winces. He hadn’t meant to take his mood out on the kid. “My apologies, Jared, that tone was uncalled for.”

“Sir.” Jensen had taught Jared that, the noncommittal tone that’s neither agreeing with a criticism of his supervisor, even from the supervisor’s own lips, nor outright contradicting the supervisor. The line between those two options is a thin one, and crossing over to either side could result in a mess for an intern. Jensen has seen this firsthand during his residency, more times than he would like.

“Shall we get started, then?” he asks, rising from his seat and glancing over to Jared.

Jared nods slowly. “Yes, sir. Perhaps you would like me to practice the massage again?” he asks. They both know damn well that after yesterday, he doesn't need the practice. It’s a diplomatic offer to help Jensen relax, and Jensen accepts it gracefully.

“Thank you, Jared. That’s an excellent idea.”

He allows Jared to unfold the mats and lay them out on the floor, then collect the massage oil from the cabinet as he undresses. His fingers are shaking with rage (or fear.) He can’t tell the difference, but they stumble over the buttons on his shirt, and he jerks his arms through impatiently, as getting rid of his clothes will somehow take his anger off his mind.

Jared guides him to lie face down on the mat, his head supported by a cushion and his shoulders waiting for Jared’s hands to begin.

Jared really doesn’t need the practice, not anymore, and it’s a tangible reminder that Jensen should be moving on from hands, taking the next step in Jared’s training. He pushes the thought from his mind though, lets Jared’s long fingers ease some of the tension out of his shoulders and back. Jared warms the massage oil in his hands before transferring it to Jensen’s skin, and he works more slowly now. He’s learning to enjoy the experience himself, or at least suitably fake it. Jensen couldn’t be more proud, he thinks sarcastically, but even that thought is pushed to the back of his head by Jared’s warm fingers and breath as they travel down his spine.

Jensen gives in to the massage, lets himself stop thinking about technique and accept that Jared is becoming, for lack of a better word, _gifted_ with his hands. He relaxes into the touch and, to his surprise, finds himself getting hard as Jared rubs the massage oil skillfully into his ass and thighs.

“If you’ll turn over, sir, I can do your front,” Jared whispers into his ear, a low, sultry voice that is less Jared and more training. Jensen nods briefly, propping himself up on his elbows before he rotates his hips and settles back down, his warm back sticking slightly to the mat.

Jared’s hands are no less slow and gentle as they move down his chest, feeling every inch of Jensen tighten, then relax. Jensen could stop the sharp intake of breath as Jared reaches his cock, but he doesn’t, choosing instead to give in to the experience and allow Jared’s massages to stir him to full attention.

Jared doesn’t ask permission before squirting more massage oil into his palms, working Jensen’s cock in slow, steady strokes, a tight grip that has Jensen unconsciously raising his hips to thrust into Jared’s palm. Jared doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down until Jensen’s about to let loose, and he bites back a moan of frustration. Jared smiles, hand inching slowly up Jensen’s cock, teasing him until Jensen snaps “God _damn_ it, Jared!”

Jared grins then, and that’s all Jared, not the week’s worth of training he’s been through. His grip tightens again and he pulls fast and hard, and somewhere between the fourth and fifth stroke Jensen comes with a harsh groan. It’s fast and hard and loose and Jared just keeps grinning down at him, running a fingertip in circles across his sensitive cock.

It’s not until his eyes clear and readjust to the light that Jensen notices Jared rocking back and forth a little as he sits on the mat. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Jensen to realize that Jared’s left hand is pressed down onto his lap, and he’s mildly surprised. It’s the first time the kid’s shown any obvious interest in touching Jensen sexually.

 _Guess my charm’s paying off,_ he thinks, eyes traveling up to Jared’s face. Jared is in a kind of half-trance, eyes shut, biting his lower lip. _Bisexual in practice, my ass_.

“Jared,” he says after a moment, his voice still a little shaky.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says automatically, pulling his arm away, sitting upright and snapping to attention.

“There’s a clean cloth in the cabinet.”

Jared nods and retrieves the washcloth, clearing Jensen’s come from his bare chest. Jensen doesn’t even raise his head as Jared takes the cloth away, folding it and placing it neatly on top of the cabinet. He’s closing his eyes, letting the afterglow creep in around the edges of his eyelids. He can still feel the warmth in his chest and his dick.

He feels rather than hears Jared return to sit on the mat beside him. “You did a damn good job there, kid,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared says, and when he opens his eyes, Jensen can see that the kid is positively glowing.

He sits up slowly, so he and Jared are on more of the same level. “Jared,” he says, and it’s clear from the way he’s speaking so carefully, and calling Jared _kid_ instead of by his name, that now isn’t a time to talk shop, exactly.

“Yes, sir?” Jared looks at him as though he expects Jensen to return some form of criticism about what just happened.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. You don’t need that from me.”

Jared smiles easily. “It’s really fine, sir. I know you didn’t mean it.” He hesitates, then plunges ahead, the way he’s prone to do unless Jensen’s reiterated that they’re only talking technique and sex for the next hour. “I hope I helped you relax some?”

Jensen has to smile at that. Jared, friendly and eager to please. It’s a good thought. “You certainly did,” he answers, and Jared’s beam doesn’t escape him. “You did that exactly right. Good timing with it, too. You’ve learned a lot.”

“I’m a smart kid, sir,” Jared grins back, his voice barely containing a joyful laugh. Jensen knows then, without any doubt at all, that the “smart kid” has developed a monumental crush on him, in an incredibly stupid move. He may not break Jared’s spirit, and really, he’d prefer not to, but he’s well on his way to breaking the kid’s heart when he gives him back to Jeff, and that’s a damn shame. He tries to keep his thoughts in terms of how it will affect Jared. Certainly not how it might affect him.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, standing up and extending a hand to help Jared rise to his feet, “but I could still burn off some energy. What do you say to hitting the gym?”

“Fine by me, sir,” Jared agrees. “But you might want to put your clothes back on when we walk down the halls.”

“So you won’t have the temptation of staring at my ass the entire way?” Jensen asks him teasingly.

“That’s it, yeah,” Jared says blithely.

“Well, if you insist.” Jensen’s fingers are calmer, steadier as he puts his clothes back on, even knowing Jared’s staring as he does. He’ll get through this. No problem. He just needs to work off the nervous energy.

When they get to the gym, Jensen tells Jared to make use of any equipment he'd like. Jared heads off towards the free weights, and Jensen considers following him to keep an eye on him, but he reasons that Chris will have everything under control, and at any rate, there's no shortage of guards who can come running. He chooses a stair machine for himself, wanting to feel the ache in his legs after a few minutes of steady climbing.

To his surprise, Chris comes and takes the machine next to him instead of watching Jared, the way Jensen expected he would. Jensen had thought that by this time he would have earned the privilege of exercising without Chris breathing down his neck, but apparently Chris sees it differently.

He ignores Chris, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave Jensen in peace, but after a minute of climbing Chris turns his head to look at Jensen. “All right, man, talk to me.”

“What do you mean, talk to you?” Jensen snaps back. “I’m trying to do some climbing here, Kane. Go talk to the intern if you want company.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Chris says, not breaking stride. “It’s way too early for you to be at the gym, unless you’re working Morgan’s kid, and you’re not. You’re trying to blow off some steam and if you hurt yourself taking it too hard on the machines, it’s gonna be a hell of a mess for me to deal with. So shoot.”

“I wanted some exercise.”

“Before eleven in the morning? You don’t even wake up before noon. Look, Jensen, that’s not going to fly with me, so you might as well just talk.”

Jensen fixes Chris with a steady glare. “Why do you care?”

“Because, like I said, you screw up in my gym, there’s gonna be hell to pay,” Chris retorts. “That and I like your whiny ass, even if I’m still not sure why.”

Jensen’s flattered at the compliment, but he’s still not in the mood. He tries another tactic. “Look, Chris, I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather work through things than talk through them.”

“So there is something going on.” Chris smirks. “You know I’m going to keep bugging you until you give in, Jensen, and amping up the speed on that machine isn’t going to scare me off. It’ll just make it harder for you to resist when you collapse in a pool of your own sweat.”

“Wow. That’s a truly beautiful picture,” Jensen says sarcastically, then he sighs. “All right. I just have a lot on my plate right now.”

“Working with Morgan’s kid?” Chris asks. “I don’t blame you. Morgan’s a tough customer. Or so I’ve heard. And, well, I guess he has the money to be difficult.”

Jensen snorts. “Morgan doesn't worry me. We go back a long way. The problem is that Jared’s developing a pretty major crush on me.”

Chris laughs at that, a loud, grating laugh that makes Jensen want to go move to the free weights with Jared so Chris will just stop it with the conversation already. “Do you have any idea how full of yourself you sound?” Chris asks when he catches his breath. “I mean, literally. ‘I don’t know what to do because the intern has fallen in love with me!’” Chris mimics Jensen’s voice, and Jensen picks up the towel hanging off the machine and throws it in his face, which only makes Chris laugh harder.

“Seriously, though, man, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. It’s called Stockholm Syndrome, and you make it easy, acting all buddy-buddy with the interns. You can’t say that’s what’s getting you down.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to see it happen to Jared. He’s not a bad kid, and he doesn’t need that kind of shit,” Jensen says awkwardly. He doesn’t go on to say that he genuinely likes Jared, or that he doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to him, because he doesn’t deserve it. But Chris squints at him a little, and he gets the idea that Chris knows what he isn’t saying.

“Is there anything I can do for you, man?” he asks.

Jensen frowns in surprise. “I don’t think so, but what did you have in mind?”

Chris shrugs. “I don't know. Anything. You could come to dinner tonight with me and the lady. She’s a damn good cook. Or I could help you hide a body. You know, whatever you need.”

Jensen knows Chris is about the friendliest person he’s ever met, but he’s never thought Chris would actually like him enough to offer to help him out, even if he was joking about hiding bodies. He smiles at Chris, a kind of bitter grin. “Thanks a lot, but I think I’ll take a rain check,” he says. He doesn't need any added complications in his life, like _friends_ , until he gets his head on straight and gets over himself.

Chris nods as if he expected as much. “Suit yourself,” he says, switching to cooldown on his own machine. Jensen follows suit, because really, he’s getting exhausted, but damn if he was going to let Chris show him up.

“I just need to wait until things are a little less busy,” Jensen says, feeling compelled to make some sort of excuse, after Chris went out of his way to make sure everything was okay. “And besides, Jared's sessions have been running late recently, and we’ve just been getting dinner delivered to my office.” The minute it comes out of his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say, and Chris isn’t going to give him a pass on that one.

Sure enough, Chris gives him a knowing look. “You know, Jensen, Jared having a crush on you isn’t a problem unless you let it become one,” he says meaningfully. “And if you need to talk to me about any more of that, you know where to find me. I’ll see if I can help. I could at least listen.”

“Don’t talk shit, Chris,” Jensen says sharply. “It's all going to be over in a couple of weeks anyway.”

“Well, if you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for that too.” Chris looks sympathetic, and it’s a surprise for Jensen, who’s gotten used to seeing him with a kind of smirk and not taking a damn thing seriously.

“Yeah, well, you can use your deductive powers if I show up to the gym before noon again.” Jensen stops the machine entirely and hops off. He deliberately doesn’t retrieve a towel and spray it down, just to see if Chris calls him on it. He doesn’t.

He walks over to where Jared’s still using the free weights.

“You ready to hit the showers and have lunch?” he asks, and Jared nods.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He walks too quickly, and Jared's surprised as he adjusts his pace trying to keep up. Jensen is _through_ with that shit though. It’ll just be easier for both of them when it’s over. And at least he has the weekend to take some time away from all of it, get his head on straight.


	5. Chapter 4

_November 2nd, 2076_

Monday morning finds Jensen frustrated. Two days away from the kid haven’t been enough to get him out of Jensen’s head, and the disapproval he could sense radiating from Jeff and Chris when he broached the subject is enough to make him need a real vacation.

In the meantime, he figures he’ll keep Jared’s training going at a breakneck pace and get rid of the kid in a week and a half. Two weeks, max. It’s not that he doesn’t like the kid – he does, and he wishes for the thousandth time in the past few days that they hadn’t met like this, but complications with an intern are literally the last thing he needs right now. At any rate, the sooner this job is over, the sooner he can get rid of this stupid, amateur attachment.

He stands up, lays the mats down on the floor. They’ll just have to move on with the training. Quickly, professionally, with no personal involvement.

“Good morning, sir,” Jared says cautiously. He can clearly tell that Jensen’s in a mood again, and he smiles in a sort of placating manner that only serves to irritate Jensen more.

“Hello, Jared,” Jensen replies. He’s sitting in the chair behind his desk, ticking a pen against the wood for some reason he can’t explain. His voice is _very_ professional, he notes with some pride, but Jared, being Jared, seems to take the coldness as some sort of personal rejection. Which, in a way, it is.

“Would you like me to practice my massages again, sir?” he asks hopefully, as if because it worked on Friday, it’s clearly the best solution now. Jensen stands abruptly, pulling his chair away from the desk and walking across it to stand beside Jared.

“That won’t be necessary, Jared, but thank you,” he says, still all business. Jared looks a little confused, a little worried, but he has to lose his little puppy love crush on Jensen sooner or later and remember that they aren't having sex for the fun of it. Really, Jensen reminds himself, he’s doing everyone a favor by returning to a strictly business attitude with Jared, because the kid seems to take a little kindness the wrong way. It’s less messy to disillusion him early.

“Yes, sir, I see,” Jared says, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t see. He’s waiting for Jensen to be acting like himself again, and it’s just not coming.

“It’s time we moved on to another part of your training,” Jensen says. “In fact, it's past time. I kept you too long on your massages.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, but he doesn’t seem to understand it any better than he did a minute ago. He’ll catch on quick enough though, Jensen tells himself again. After all, he is _such_ a bright kid.

“So I thought today we would move on to oral sex,” Jensen says in a tone that brooks no resistance.

Jared blinks at him. “Sir, I –” he begins, then hesitates.

“I’ve told you before, Jared, if you have a question, you ask it sooner rather than later.”

Jared’s staring at him, and Jensen wonders what the question is that Jared is so afraid to spit out. _I was just wondering whether you were on your period or something, sir? Or coming off your medication?... Aren’t we going to talk about this, sir? You always talk me through things..._

“Well, Jared, do you have a question or not?” he snaps, and the kid freezes, all injured expression and big, sad eyes.

“I – yes, sir,” he says, his voice anything but certain. “Please, sir, I just – I don't think I'm ready for this, not yet, not today, and –” Jared shakes his head mutely, biting his lower lip and furrowing his brow, and Jensen rolls his eyes.

“It’s the next step after learning to use your hands, Jared. Learning to use your mouth for your supervisor’s sexual pleasure. It's not rocket science.” He’s aware of how harsh he sounds, and he doesn’t miss Jared’s flinch.

“Please, sir, can we just –” It’s clear that Jared doesn’t even know what he wants to say. He takes a step back, and another, until his broad shoulders hit the door. He’s holding out his hands as if to ward Jensen off, still shaking his head and looking as if his heart had just been broken.

“I’m afraid not, Jared. We’ve wasted enough of Mr. Morgan’s time. He’s a busy man, he’s paying me well and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Jared almost chokes at that, and Jensen shakes his head briskly, almost as though he can shake off his irritation and Jared's sudden bout of stubbornness. He’s going about this all wrong, something about trying to break the kid of his little crush and starting him on a new track at the same time. Jared’s clearly confused and overwhelmed, but goddamnit, so is Jensen, and he doesn’t need any of the intern’s shit. He has enough going on in his own life, which will be rapidly more comfortable as soon as things get back to normal, and right now Jared is exacerbating the problem. If his feelings are a casualty of Jensen’s need to organize his life, well, that’s just too bad for Jared, isn't it?

And he does feel guilty when he thinks that. Because it’s probably not even Jared’s fault that he’s here. Chances are he had nothing to do with whatever got him in this position, his parents or his goddamn high school history teacher being a little too careless with their opinions and Jared getting caught up with them. And really, the kid doesn’t deserve this kind of life.

But Jensen’s already pushing those thoughts out of his head too, quicker than he can verbalize them to himself, because feeling sympathy for the kid isn’t actually going to help him at all, not going to delay his fate or even help him cope. All he can do for Jared is see that he’s trained up right so he's a good little intern and Jeff Morgan is satisfied, because that _will_ make Jared’s life easier.

“Come on, Jared, cut it out, get over here and we'll get started,” Jensen says, walking over to the mats and beginning to remove his shoes.

“No,” Jared says. He doesn’t say it softly, but Jensen’s got his back to the kid and well, this is _Jared_ , and he’s sure he’s misheard him. He slips the right shoe off his foot and turns around, feet uneven on the floor.

“What did you say, Jared?” he asks, because if the kid was refusing him, surely he would at least have done it politely, prefaced it with a “please” and his reasons and amended it with a “sir.”

“I said ‘no,’” Jared repeats louder, looking Jensen straight in the eye and flinching as he says it, as if he expects Jensen to backhand him across the face immediately, just on the principle of the thing. And really, Jensen’s tempted, because this isn’t a good start to his new program of treating Jared coldly, professionally, and not at all like he actually likes the kid.

“That’s what I thought you said, yeah,” Jensen says. He takes a step forward, closer to Jared, then another until he's almost closed the distance. He’s just close enough that Jared’s essentially pinned against the door, but not quite breathing down the kid’s neck. With the inch or two Jared’s got on him, Jensen finds it easier to look him in the eye from a foot away. “What would make you say that, Jared?”

Jared looks angry and confused and scared as hell. “Because I told you I wasn’t ready and you ignored me,” he says, looking shocked at the words coming out of his own mouth. “I told you I couldn’t do it and I can’t. So, no. Just no.”

“You told me you weren’t ready and I told you that you were,” Jensen replies, holding his gaze steady. Jared’s eyes drop, and he stares at the floor and chews on his bottom lip rather than face Jensen.

“Look at me, Jared,” Jensen commands, and Jared rears his head up to glare daggers at Jensen.

“I’m not ready,” he spits.

“You’re not addressing me properly, Jared,” Jensen reminds him, and Jared’s frustration and anger are so clear that Jensen half expects him to stomp his feet and yell.

“I don’t give a flying fuck, _sir_ ,” he says instead, carefully enunciating every word, with an extra special emphasis on the last.

“Jared,” Jensen says, his tone a clear, sharp warning, and Jared shakes his head violently.

“Oh, no. No. Don’t you give me that,” he says angrily. “Don’t even try it, _sir_.”

Jensen reaches out and takes Jared’s chin in his hands, holding it still and forcing Jared to look into his eyes. Jared resists at first, his eyes darting nervously across Jensen’s face and down the length of the arm holding him there, but after a moment his eyes come to rest meeting Jensen’s.

“Jared, it would be a lot easier for me if I could have your cooperation here, because I don’t want to hurt you,” Jensen says, and he can’t make it any plainer than that.

“You don’t want to, but you will,” Jared answers, and just like that all the anger seems to seep out of him, like the one thought exhausts him so much that all that’s left is the pain and betrayal shining out of his eyes.

“Unless you cooperate,” Jensen agrees, and Jared jerks his head angrily, tugging it loose from Jensen’s grip.

“Fuck that,” he says, his voice raw and broken, and Jensen closes his eyes.

“You had to do it the hard way, didn’t you?” he asks Jared, but it’s more to himself.

He hates disciplining interns. He organized his entire residency around gaining their trust and cooperation to avoid it, and usually it worked. He only has himself to blame for Jared’s outburst, really. Switching tactics on the kid so suddenly had to have done it, convinced Jared that Jensen was just like everyone else, and... oh.

It hadn’t occurred to Jensen, but maybe that’s what all of this is about. Jared’s just waiting for Jensen to prove him right, to beat him bloody and then shove his cock down Jared’s throat and tell him to _swallow it all down, you stupid slut._

Well, Jensen’s never going to be that guy, and it doesn’t take that to be a professional. He sighs. Three steps forward, two steps back. Time to re-evaluate, treat Jared with a little patience, and take the time and care to do the job right.

Jared fully deserves a beating for that little outburst, and nobody could fault Jensen for giving it to him, but it would be entirely counterproductive. Jared just requires a bit of a personal touch.

“All right, Jared,” he says, pulling one of the chairs in front of his desk to the center of the room, in front of where Jared still stands against the door, his hands twisting nervously in front of his crotch and his eyes downcast. “I didn’t want to have to do this, you know, but you’ve given me no choice.”

“Yes, sir, of course, it was all my fault,” Jared replies, the words irreproachable but the tone scathing under the softness. “I deserve to be punished, like the little slut I am, don’t I, sir?” Jensen almost flinches at the words, knowing that Jared’s probably parroting something he’s been told before. But he isn’t going to let the kid get to him. Not anymore.

“You're not a slut, Jared,” he replies, as casual as he can make himself sound. “If you were a little bit sluttier, then maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but we are. Blame it on your prudishness if anything.”

Jared looks confused by this, Jensen’s foray back into friendly discussion, back to playing the good cop. Jensen can’t blame him.

“I'm sorry, Jared,” he says. “You were right in saying that I should have listened to your concerns and talked you through them, but you were wrong to resist like that and especially to be so disrespectful. And that’s why you’re being punished.”

He sits down in the chair and unties his left shoe, slipping it off and kicking it over to join his right shoe by the edge of the mat. “Now come over and stand by me,” he says.

“Will there be extra punishment if I don’t cooperate, sir?” Jared asks sarcastically, but he’s already moving to stand beside the chair.

Jensen doesn’t dignify his comment with a response, just pulls Jared closer until the kid’s standing between his knees. He reaches out and takes hold of the navy sweatpants, tugging the elastic waistband until they slide to Jared’s knees. Jared doesn’t resist, doesn’t pull away or say anything to him at all. He just stands there, trembling slightly as if he’s finally thinking better of his smart mouth and attitude.

“I'm going to put you over my knee and spank that attitude right out of you,” Jensen tells him, watching the kid’s eyes flash with something. Whether it’s fear or relief, Jensen can’t tell.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, and this time his voice is blank, or, if anything, meek and submissive.

“All right, come here.” Jensen draws Jared over to his right side and bends the kid over his knee. The chair isn’t ideal, and Jared’s much too tall for this kind of punishment, but he figures at least it’ll make an impression.

“I want your hands on the floor,” he directs, and Jared obeys wordlessly, palms colliding with the tiles as Jensen adjusts the kid’s ass so it's a better target. It may not be the most comfortable position for Jared, draped over his lap, trying to balance his hands against the floor, but that’s not his main concern right now. He stares down at the kid’s pale ass, clenching nervously, and rests his hand on it.

“I want you to tell me why you're getting this spanking, Jared,” he says, his voice warm and reassuring. Jared squirms a little, friction across Jensen’s crotch, and he’s not at all surprised to find that he’s enjoying his lap full of warm boy, now that Jared has decided to behave himself. They might end up having some fun after all.

“Because I disobeyed you and disrespected you, sir,” Jared answers, textbook perfection.

“That’s right,” Jensen says. “And that’s very serious, so this is going to have to persuade you to avoid any such disobedience and disrespect in the future, isn't it?” He squeezes Jared’s right ass cheek gently.

“Yes, sir,” Jared answers obediently. Jensen can only imagine what’s going through his head.

“Good boy,” he says approvingly, and Jared squirms again. Jensen doesn’t stop him. It can’t be too comfortable for him, after all. “And this spanking is going to have to be a long, hard spanking, to remind you to be good, isn't it?” He rubs Jared's ass, deep strokes punctuated by the occasional pinch, and Jared keeps squirming.

“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees.

“That’s my good boy. Then I guess we’re ready to get started,” Jensen finally says, and Jared wiggles his ass a little.

“Yes, sir.”

Jensen raises his hand and brings the palm down in a solid slap across Jared’s ass. Jared, to his credit, doesn’t make a sound, but he does jump a little, scooting an inch across Jensen’s lap, and Jensen lands the second smack directly on top of the first. “Settle down, Jared,” he warns.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” Jared answers, and Jensen smiles. He has his obedient little intern back.

“I'm very glad to hear it,” he says, but his tone is more playful than serious. He slaps Jared’s ass again, the left cheek this time, and Jared shifts his legs, exhaling a little too loudly.

Jensen pauses to rub Jared’s ass again, noticing that the skin is barely turning pink. He can keep this up for a while, he imagines.

“You know, Jared, it makes things easier on us both if you just do as you’re told,” he says gently, smacking Jared a little more firmly. “If you’d just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this position at all, would we?”

“No, sir,” Jared answers, and he practically writhes across Jensen’s lap as Jensen spanks him again.

“That's right, we wouldn't.” Jared arches into Jensen’s hand as he cups the pink buttocks over his knee, running one finger down the cleft of Jared’s ass.

“No, if you hadn’t been such a naughty boy, we could be having a much more pleasant time right now,” Jensen continues, even though he’s not sure he can think of many more pleasant ways to spend the time. Jared’s wriggling over his cock, and breathing heavily, evidently as turned on by the proceedings as Jensen is.

“When I think of all the lovely things we could be doing if I didn’t have to punish you for being such a naughty boy…” Jensen says huskily, pausing again in the spanking to stroke Jared’s bottom, which has finally turned a dark enough shade of pink for Jensen to tell that he’s having any effect at all.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Jared moans, squirming almost frantically.

“Are you sorry, Jared?” Jensen asks, letting his hand drift to Jared’s untouched thighs. “Because I’m not sure you’re really sorry. After all, you _did_ continue to resist my authority, and disrespect me, and swear at me after your initial disobedience.”

He pulls Jared’s thighs apart, exposing the kid’s asshole and testicles right over his knee, and continues to knead the skin on Jared’s inner thighs, coming tantalizingly close to the kid’s balls before moving his hand away again. He can feel Jared’s dick practically humping his thigh in response.

“Yes, sir,” Jared promises. “I'm really sorry, sir, I'll never do anything like that again, just please....”

“See that you don't,” Jensen says, a little more firmly, and he lets his hand smack down on the inside of Jared’s thigh. Jared’s sharp gasp is his reward, and he smacks again, this time on the other thigh, as Jared almost falls off Jensen's lap with his energetic response.

“Careful, kid,” Jensen warns, and he brings his left arm up to pull Jared in close, anchoring the kid’s waist against his own stomach. The heat from Jared’s body is making him almost unbearably hard.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Jared apologizes breathlessly, and Jensen lets his hand return to smacking Jared’s ass. Two sharp spanks to one cheek, then two to the other. Jared groans, deep and needy.

“I don't ever want to see such a disgraceful display of disobedience and disrespect from you again, do you understand me?” Jensen asks, massaging the heat into Jared’s beautiful skin.

“Yes, sir, I do, I do understand,” Jared swears, wiggling against Jensen’s grip on his waist.

“Good. Then we'll just finish this up and we can get on with our day.” Jensen brings his hand down sharply right over Jared's asshole, and the kid lets out one final whimper before Jensen’s hands are unwrapping from around Jared's body, stroking soothing lines down his cheeks. Jared shudders violently over Jensen’s lap, and Jensen is reminded that the kid is really too big to be in this position, after all. With one final pat to Jared’s ass, he clears his throat.

“You can get up now, Jared,” he says, and Jared rises slowly, his own hands traveling back to touch the hot skin of his ass.

“And kid, don’t make me do that again,” Jensen says, trying for stern and failing miserably. He can see just how hard their little discipline session has gotten Jared, and he wants nothing more than to grab the kid and blow him until he can’t see straight. Which might just be a good plan, considering their initial order of business.

Jared is shifting his weight from foot to foot, and he sends Jensen an agonized look. His cock is hard and dark, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to blow his load any minute. “Please, sir,” he begs softly, full of want, “can I please touch myself?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Sorry, kid,” he says, not sorry at all, “but we’re moving on with your first lesson in oral. Come here.” He stands and pulls Jared onto the folding mats, sweatpants still halfway down the kid’s legs, and drops to his knees beside Jared.

“I want you to hold off for as long as you can before you come,” he says clearly, looking up to meet Jared in the eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, his voice still aching for something Jensen can’t wait to give him. Oh, and Jensen knows how idiotic that is, but he can’t help that the kid’s making his head spin.

“You can touch me as much as you like,” he says, and he leans in, hands wrapping around Jared’s hips to grip his pink ass as he puts his tongue to Jared’s cock.

“Yes, sir,” Jared replies, and he gives a little gasp of shock as Jensen’s tongue licks a stripe up the underside of his cock. He puts his own hands nervously, unsteadily, on Jensen’s shoulders, and whispers it again. “Yes, sir.”

Jensen smiles and puts his mouth around Jared’s cock. He looks up Jared’s length and smiles with his eyes at Jared’s face, a mix of uncertainty and longing.

 _I’m gonna make you feel so good, kid,_ he thinks, and he starts moving his lips slowly down Jared’s cock, taking it into his mouth in little wet kisses that have Jared hissing sharply above his head and squeezing his shoulders involuntarily. Yeah, the kid’s going to like this one.

He goes slowly at first, teasing Jared, despite his own sense of need. His tongue flicks out around his lips to catch the skin ahead of him, and Jared bucks his hips automatically, trying to push in to the warm wet of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen leans in closer, grips Jared’s ass tighter, and starts swirling his tongue around the part of Jared already in his mouth, coating Jared’s dick with the saliva he has no trouble producing.

Jared groans again, all need and want. “Please, sir,” he says, open and honest and raw, and it’s all Jensen needs to hear before sliding the kid in further. Jared’s a big kid, with a bigger dick, but Jensen has had years of practice and considers himself one of the world’s foremost experts on deep throating. He swallows Jared down, moving along until he finds himself finally running into the dark, silky curls that make up Jared’s pubic hair. He trails his right hand further down and finds Jared’s balls, teasing them with his index finger. Perfect.

He hollows his cheeks then and begins sucking on Jared’s cock, rocking back a little as he does, all the while tracing around the edges of Jared’s nut sack, stopping just short of taking Jared’s balls in his hand. Jared’s grip on his shoulders has tightened tremendously, and he’s staring down at Jensen with glazed eyes, mumbling something Jensen can’t quite make out until he realizes it’s a half-choked _sir_.

Jensen curls his lips around Jared’s shaft, and finally brings his hand down further to squeeze Jared’s balls as he goes. When his other hand finds its way to Jared’s anus and strokes tentatively, Jared jerks, spasms, and comes in Jensen’s mouth, thrusting frantically.

Jensen, being the professional he is, swallows Jared’s semen down easily and maintains his hold until Jared has finished. Jared is breathing heavily, holding Jensen so tight that he’s surprised the kid hasn’t hurt his fingers, and it takes him a minute to come to his senses before he starts and releases Jensen, starting to apologize.

“It’s fine, Jared,” Jensen says, overriding Jared’s muted, half-dazed ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ as he rises to his feet. He put his hand on Jared’s neck, lets the kid lean in to it, almost like he’s going to nuzzle it. “I told you it would be all right,” he says softly, leaning in closer, Jared just stares at him, eyes blown but still somehow wanting something, and this is stupid and ridiculous and all kinds of wrong and a bad idea. Jensen comes in even closer until his mouth is right beside Jared’s ear.

“I gave you permission, Jared,” he whispers, and the kid nods dreamily.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, so quiet, and Jensen knows right then what he has to do. He just has to say one more thing first.

“You can call me Jensen when it’s just the two of us,” he breathes, _bad idea, oh, bad idea,_ and he licks a stripe from Jared’s ear to Jared’s mouth, and kisses him.

Jared kisses back, not particularly skilled but he’s trying, Jensen can tell, by the way he opens his mouth wide to let Jensen take control, tasting Jared’s teeth and Jared’s tongue while Jared’s come is still coating his throat. Jared kisses him back, but it’s passive, shy. The kid’s still scared of doing everything wrong.

Jensen pulls Jared in closer, hands reaching around to clasp the back of his head, and he knows then, in one crystal clear and completely shocking moment, that he’s not going to give Jared back to Jeff. They sink to the floor, half-kneeling, half-reclining on the folding mats, and Jensen just wants to consume Jared, to somehow swallow his entire self, and that’s when he realizes what he’s doing and lets Jared go, pulls away.

Jared looks up from where he’s propped up on one elbow, eyes meeting Jensen’s with something that is either pain or desire or quite possibly a mix. His hands reach cautiously to the waistband of his sweatpants, and when Jensen doesn’t stop him, he pulls them slowly back up. Jensen doesn’t know what to say. This doesn’t stop him from trying anyway, because someone has to say something and break the spell. In the meantime, Jensen’s hard-on is rapidly shrinking. This is not the way he wanted this to turn out.

“I – Jared, I’m sorry,” he says lamely, and Jared just looks at him. It’s clear that he expects more than that, and Jensen still isn’t sure what's going to come out of his mouth. _Let’s do this again_ is on the tip of his tongue and he pushes it away, because that would be a remarkably stupid thing to say. It would not be the stupidest thing Jensen has done today, in a lifelong history of doing stupid things, but at this point his head should be on damage control. He settles for the easiest, most professional way out.

“You were right when you said I should have listened to you, Jared, and I’m sorry. That was completely inexcusable of me. I told you that you should always share your concerns or questions with me, and I betrayed your trust by ignoring you like that. I’m partially to blame for the fact that this went as far as it did, and I’d like to apologize.”

Jared just looks at him, as if he still expects more. “I’m listening,” he says quietly. Earnestly, like he really wants to hear what sort of idiotic excuse Jensen can come up with for this mess.

Jensen is still at a loss. “I – I fucked up and I’m sorry, Jared, okay?” he says. It comes out harsher than he intended, because _fuck_ , this entire situation is all kinds of fucked up and he needs to think, needs to do something or anything to calm his brain down long enough to figure out what the hell he thinks he’s doing. What the hell _is_ he doing?

“I have a professional responsibility to you and I let it slip my mind. I’m under a great deal of personal stress right now, and I’ve taken it out on you, and once again, I apologize. It was inexcusable.”

“It’s fine, sir,” Jared says, but his eyes are still so dark and uncertain that Jensen knows they aren’t going back to where they were before. Not any time soon.

“It’s not fine, Jared,” he says sadly. “And… I hope you know I meant it when I said you could call me Jensen.”

Jared nods. “Jensen,” he repeats, and it sounds strange coming from his mouth.

Jensen stands up, dusting his hands off automatically on the back of his pants. “I think I’ll just order us an early lunch,” he says awkwardly, and Jared nods at him.

“Yes, sir.”

Jensen winces at the way the honorific comes out of Jared’s mouth so casually. And that's when he knows that whatever it is that makes the kid special, it’s making him think of his entire profession differently. He cringes at the thought that things are only going to get tougher from here. Pushes it out of his head and buzzes for Alona.

They don’t really say anything much over lunch. Jared stands quietly, pointedly, and Jensen doesn’t insist that he take a seat. He doesn’t think he really spanked the kid that hard at all, but he’s not going to push anything while he’s still on such unsure footing. He finishes his sandwich in silence, and waits until Jared has stopped eating before he speaks again.

“I’d like to talk to you, Jared, if that’s all right,” he says quietly. “I’d like to have an honest conversation where you look me in the eyes and we communicate.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says. Seeing Jensen’s frown, he quickly amends, “Jensen.” But that’s only part of the reason Jensen’s frowning, and it does nothing to clear away his scowl. Jared retrieves the chair Jensen had used earlier, positions it in front of the desk, and takes a seat. Jensen gives him a quick smile, but it doesn’t last long and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows Jared won’t be fooled by any of this, and he doesn’t see the point in trying to make it convincing.

“I know this is a little late to be having this conversation,” Jensen says, “but I’d like you to tell me any qualms you have with moving on to oral training, Jared.”

Jared, meeting his eyes, doesn't even flinch. He stares back at Jensen from his chair and nods. “It is a little late,” he agrees.

“I can't say ‘I’m sorry’ any more than I’ve said it,” Jensen says, and it’s true. It’s pathetic and it makes him an asshole, but it’s true.

“I didn't ask you to,” Jared says, and while he’s not really using Jensen's name, at least he’s dropping the _sir._ “It's late for that, but I’ll tell you anyway. I didn’t want to start oral training because I don’t like the idea of blowing guys. I had never considered it before I was arrested, and while I was in the general facilities, one of the guards forced himself on me and made me suck his cock at night. I tried to cooperate, but somehow I was never good enough. I needed some time to get used to the idea of having it happen again.” Jared’s entire speech is monotone, like he’s separating himself emotionally from the entire event, and Jensen didn’t think it was possible to feel like more of an asshole than he already did, but oh, it’s possible, and it’s happening.

“Jared,” he breathes, “I’m _sorry_.” And everything about that is so inadequate, because it’s not going to do anything for Jared. It’s not going to change what happened to him in general, it’s not going to change what Jensen did to him just now. It’s not even going to offer him any sort of comfort, because Jensen is just another government asshole contributing to the system that let it happen to him. And Jensen has never hated himself more than he does in that moment, with his entire _life_ mocking him for who he has become.

Jared’s blank eyes let a flash of emotion through before he closes them off again. He swallows. “I know, Jensen,” he says, and he honestly seems to believe the apology.

Jensen is relieved, to say the least. “We don’t need to move on to blowjobs yet,” he tells Jared, and even if that’s taking a step back, he’s fine with it. They don’t need to be doing this, not when Jensen has no intention of completing Jared’s training, anyway.

Jared smiles at him wryly. “I think I’m ready now, sir,” he says, in a sort of self-deprecating way. “I think you’ve changed my mind about it.”

Jensen doesn’t know whether Jared’s talking about the fear of punishment or his orgasm, and he doesn’t ask.

“Not today, Jared,” he says instead, as gently as he can. “I think we’re both a little emotionally charged right now. It might be a better idea if we skipped your afternoon training session today.”

Jared looks genuinely disappointed, and Jensen backtracks. It’s no kindness to the kid to send him off for a few extra hours in a cell, even if it’s a better idea than blowing Jared again. He doesn’t really know what else to do though, because he’s on edge and Jared is too, and the tension in the room is going to prevent them from having any sort of reasonable discussion today. “Or maybe it would be a good idea if we went to the gym and ran laps.”

Jared looks a little surprised, but he nods his agreement and rises to his feet. “Yes, sir,” he says, taking his leash from Jensen's desk and snapping it around his collar. It’s proof of Jensen’s psychological meltdown, he thinks, that it almost burns his fingers to take hold of the other end and lead Jared through the building. Jared seems to have grown accustomed to the humiliation that Jensen is only just beginning to feel.

In the gym, Jensen unsnaps Jared’s leash and immediately takes off behind him running the track. He keeps up a steady pace, spurring Jared on faster, not giving Chris a chance to talk even if he jogged out to join them. He does not want to talk to fucking Christian Kane right now.

They don’t talk much over dinner either, but it’s a more relaxed, comfortable silence. They’d hit the showers after their run, _not_ the baths, and they’re both physically worn down, enough that the emotional exhaustion isn’t foremost in their minds. Jensen sends Jared off with a reminder that he’ll see him the next day, and Jared smiles and nods. He’s probably expecting to resume business as usual. Well, he’ll just be wrong.

Jensen paces a little and looks around for a spare piece of paper. He finally resorts to the small, square post-it notes on his desk, which he unsticks and attaches to the edge of the desk in order as he writes. He always thinks better on paper anyway.

 _Jared. Beautiful, smart kid. Doesn't deserve this shit.  
Chris thinks I like Jared.  
Chris is an asshole, what does he know?  
Okay. I like Jared._

He tears off the first post-it and sticks it on the corner of the desk.

 _I like Jared.  
I cannot, in good conscience,  
give Jared back to Jeff.  
Jeff’s an ass._

 _If I don't give Jared back to Jeff,  
then what do I do with him???  
Can’t give him to someone else.  
They’re all asses._

 _Can’t keep him for myself.  
No.  
That would make me an ass.  
Well, a bigger one._

 _So what do I do with him?  
\---> Help him escape.  
!!!  
Shit. Godmotherdamn._

Jensen crumples the last post-it note into a ball, uncrumples it, tears it into miniscule pieces, and finds he enjoys ripping things up when he’s upset. The first four notes join the last in a small pile of neon-green confetti on top of his desk. He raises his left hand and sweeps them neatly into his palm, dropping them into the wastebasket. Maybe he should have burned them instead. They might look suspicious. He takes one of the cold grilled cheese sandwiches left over from dinner and peels the bread apart, drops it over the little green scraps of paper. Perfect.

He props his feet up on the desk and stares out the window. “Okay,” he says aloud. “Okay.”

The way he sees it, his choices are clear: he has to let Jared go. There’s no real option there. He thought he could do this job, and sure enough, the first time around, he proved he couldn’t. But it’s just as well. He might have a chance at getting his soul back, and that seems more important right now.

So yeah, he’s letting Jared go, getting him out of here, and in doing so, he’ll be putting himself at risk for aiding a criminal. Given his history, that means he will essentially be taking Jared’s place. And so whatever he does with Jared, he’s got to disappear too. Which means getting out of the country.

Just as well. He doesn’t think he could stay here anyway, not if he thinks about the person he almost became, but he’s carefully not thinking about that. He’s carefully not remembering how ashamed his parents would be. He’s been doing that for a while now, and really, he’s gotten good at it.

Jensen doesn’t know how to get out of the country. He lost any connections to the domestic terrorists – the Democratic Republicans – when he moved in with Jeff Morgan ten years ago. But he doesn’t bother with that just yet. When he was a kid, people used to cross into Mexico illegally, he knows. His parents had him take two years of Spanish just in case, lessons Jeff saw no point in continuing. If he could get close enough, he’s sure he could bribe someone. But first he has to find a way out of the facility. One step at a time.

He kind of wishes he could go running again, wishes he could use the gym without getting the third degree from Chris. He wishes he could fall asleep and lose any consciousness of the situation for a few hours, but he knows he won't be able to.

He goes back to his apartment and goes to bed early, hoping to somehow, miraculously, push away his thoughts and sleep, but it doesn’t happen. He stares up at the ceiling in the dark, feeling his head ready to explode from all the things he’s deliberately not thinking about. And then there’s that other problem. How does he tell Jared?

\---

 _November 3rd, 2076_

Jensen is up bright and early on Tuesday, drinking as much caffeine as he can get his hands on.

There’s no need to tell him just yet, Jensen decides. No point in getting the kid worked up until he has a clearer sense of what exactly he’s doing, where they’re both going with this. In the meantime, well, he’s not going to force the kid into blowjobs that bring back scarring experiences – and he winces, thinking about the scars on Jared’s back and wondering if that’s where they fit into this – but he can't look suspicious. He’ll get the kid for an afternoon session – say, two o’clock instead of ten in the morning – and they’ll talk about something. Like sports. A big, athletic kid like Jared is bound to like sports.

He paces around angsting so much that he’s late getting out of the apartment and gets caught in the lunch rush, and he’s about twenty minutes late to work. Alona tells him with some amusement that Jared and the guard have been waiting patiently in his office, and he lets himself in quickly, apologizing for the delay and dismissing the guard.

“Sorry, kid,” he says again when he and Jared are alone.

“It’s not a problem, sir,” Jared says steadily, and Jensen has to wonder whether that’s because it was twenty minutes with no immediate danger of Jensen abusing his position again.

He simply nods. “Have you eaten?”

“No, sir,” Jared replies, looking at him as if he’s daring Jensen to repeat what he said yesterday. Well, he might as well start showing the kid he meant it.

“It's Jensen when we’re alone, Jared,” he says, and he doesn’t give the kid a chance to respond before hurrying the conversation along. “And I’m sure you’re hungry. Let’s get some food.”

Jared doesn’t push him on it, just takes a seat, this time without squirming. “I finished the Faulkner,” he says after a moment. “I really enjoyed it.”

Jensen smiles, momentarily pleased. “Did you? I’ll have to find something else for you to bring back tonight then.”

“Thank you,” Jared says. They hardly wait at all before the food arrives. Alona’s gotten used to their schedule, Jensen imagines, and she’s had it ready for them.

“So, are we continuing with the training today?” Jared asks a few minutes later, and Jensen swallows his bite of potato before answering.

“I actually thought we could talk a little more,” he says frankly. “I was wondering whether you played any sports in school.”

Jared’s still confused by this, judging from his expression, but he’s doing a good job of learning to hide it quickly. “Okay,” he says. “I, yeah. I played basketball, just for intramurals, nothing extreme. And I ran track. I was actually on varsity last year.”

Jensen nods. Track, he knows absolutely nothing about, but basketball’s easy. They can talk basketball. “I should have pegged you for a basketball player,” he says, “what with you being so tall.”

Jared gives him a bemused smile. “You sound like my grandmother or something,” he says.

Jensen laughs. “Okay, I get it,” he says. “Well, why don’t we just talk NBA then? You follow professional basketball?”

The conversation flows fast and loose then, even if between the Mavs and the Spurs they’re instantly disagreeing. It’s done in a friendly way, and Jensen’s just glad to see that grin on Jared’s face as he gestures wildly, trying to illustrate his point. The afternoon slips away before either of them realizes it as they move on to football, and Jensen fills Jared in on what's been happening since he was arrested.

“God, I can’t believe I missed that,” Jared says finally, shaking his head a little. “Fuckin’ Redskins, man, I knew it.”

Jensen nods. “It was a great game,” he says. “I tape them when I’m working, catch up on them later. Apparently Dallas lost Sunday though, so I might have to skip that one.”

Jared nods. “Yeah, totally,” he says. They lapse into silence, both noticing how dark it’s getting outside.

“And I guess before long here it’ll be dinner time,” Jensen says to fill the silence.

“Guess so,” Jared responds. He’s silent for a minute, then blurts out, “Can I ask you something?”

“Course you can, kid,” Jensen answers, and immediately feels a little guilty because there’s no _of course_ about it, not to Jared. “Shoot.”

“Do you tell all your interns they can call you Jensen?” Jared asks, eyeing him closely to gauge his reaction. There’s no way those big eyes missed the way his face sank for a minute.

“You’re probably not going to believe me, kid, but no, I don’t.” Jensen knows that’s no kind of an answer, but it is the truth, and well, if Jared doesn’t believe him, there’s not really any way he can change that.

“That's what I thought you’d say,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen lets out a humorless laugh. “Like the old joke, right, with the two brothers? And one only tells lies and the other only tells the truth?”

“It’s a riddle,” Jared says. “And they’re guards. You wake up in this room, and there are two doors. They’re standing in front of the doors. Behind one door is a lion, and behind the other is freedom.” He doesn’t break eye contact with Jensen as he speaks, and Jensen finds himself really, really wishing he could look away. “And you have to figure out which door to try.”

“So what do you ask?” Jensen asks, knowing it’s some variation of the joke he knows, the one about asking for directions. His dad told him how to solve it once, _either way, there’s going to be one lie involved_ , but he can’t quite apply the steps to this problem.

“You walk up to one of the guards – either one, it doesn’t matter which – and you say ‘Which door would the other guard tell me was the safe door?’ And whichever door it is, you pick the other one.”

“So am I telling the truth, or am I lying?” Jensen asks, somewhat afraid to hear Jared’s answer, but knowing he won’t be surprised if Jared says he’s lying. He deserves it, after all.

Jared shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says evenly, still looking Jensen in the eye. “Maybe both doors have lions.”

“And anyway,” Jared says after a minute, “does it matter if you’re lying?”

 _Maybe not now, but it will soon._ “I guess it matters if you believe me,” Jensen says slowly.

“If I did believe you,” Jared says, his careful pronunciation making it clear that he’s not admitting to anything, least of all trusting Jensen, “then why me?”

And that’s a question Jensen doesn’t want to have to answer. “I like you, Jared,” he says, looking down at his hands. “We get along well, don’t we? We have good conversations?”

When he looks back up, Jared is watching him closely. “Yeah,” Jared says finally. “Yeah, we do, Jensen.”

Jensen nods, not really sure what he can say, and presses the buzzer to Alona. He’s not hungry, not after such a late lunch, but he pushes the spaghetti around on his plate, cutting it into smaller pieces, eating as much as he can. If Jared notices it, he doesn’t say anything, because he’s doing the same thing, sitting across from Jensen. They’ve been looking at each other all afternoon, interacting, laughing, pointing, and rolling their eyes. They stare at their plates, and Jared leaves before Jensen can remember to ask him if he’d like to pick out a new book. Jared doesn’t remind him.


	6. Chapter 5

_November 4th, 2076_

Jensen can’t just ignore his training sessions with Jared, of course, and he doesn’t have any intention of doing so. His main goal, right now, is to get through this as painlessly as possible and move on to the all-important question of how the hell to get Jared (and himself, let’s not forget himself) out of the country. And soon, too, before Jeff Morgan starts getting curious about Jared’s progress, and why he hasn't heard from Jensen at all in a week. Which means training Jared every day, always on time, not arousing any suspicion until the moment they fly the coop.

So at ten o’clock, Jared is brought in, standard procedure, business as usual. The guard departs silently, automatically after years of practice. Jared reaches up, unclips his leash, folds it neatly on Jensen’s desk, and stands waiting for Jensen to speak.

Jensen is sitting in front of his desk, again, a calculated position that doesn’t seem to give him any clear advantage over Jared. Beyond the contrast of his black button-down shirt and slacks with Jared’s sweatpants and the collar, that is. “Good morning, Jared,” he says casually, waving a hand to the vacant chair. “Have a seat.”

Jared sits. Jensen doesn’t really know what he can say, unless it’s talking more about sports. He hadn’t checked the scores this morning the way he planned. Damn. The art of keeping a conversation going with Jared was nearly impossible, after a certain point, without steering it into murky waters like riddles about prisoners or Jensen’s chosen profession.

“So, uhh, Jared,” he says, smiling heartily in an attempt to appear friendly. He suspects it falls flat, but Jared doesn’t give any indication of it. “I realized I forgot to ask if you’d like another book last night.”

“It’s fine,” Jared says, and he really doesn’t sound like he cares one way or another.

Jensen shrugs. “I just thought that if you liked William Faulkner, you might like _A Confederacy of Dunces._ John Kennedy Toole. It’s another Southern novel, from about the same period, maybe a little later.”

“I’m sure I would, thanks,” Jared agrees. Jensen jumps up and pulls the book from his shelf, handing it over.

“Here you are, then,” he says. “Make yourself comfortable, if you like. You don’t have to read it aloud, just...” he trails off as Jared’s expression grows more and more skeptical. “That is, would you like to read it, Jared?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” Jared says, and there’s definitely an undercurrent of frustration in his tone. “I’m sure that it’s great and I’ll really enjoy it. But, why now? Why aren’t we training?”

Jensen’s given himself time to think up a decent reply to this, and he feels no guilt in his reply. “There are many different aspects of training, Jared,” he says. “One of those is not to question your supervisor, just to jump into whatever they have planned. If you’d prefer to read aloud, I would love to hear you read. If not, I’ll be more than happy picking out a book of my own.”

Jared’s skepticism doesn’t appear to have diminished in the slightest, but he shrugs and opens the book. “I’ll read it aloud,” he says grudgingly.

“Do you have any questions before you begin?” Jensen asks, and it’s a fine line between mocking Jared and calling him on his reluctance. Jared might just need a little bit of authority to keep him in line until Jensen figures out what to do with him, and, well, Jensen likes to keep things running smoothly.

“Yeah,” Jared says, looking him in the eyes. “When are we going to start training for oral?”

Jensen shrugs the question off. “Soon,” he tells Jared. “But the sooner you start the book, the sooner you finish it.”

“Okay,” Jared says, even if his face makes it clear that he’s going to be asking a lot more questions if Jensen expects him to read the entire book aloud before they progress to oral. He thumbs past the first few pages, the forward, and even the quotes at the beginning, skipping them in favor of starting the first chapter. Jensen could call him on that, ask him to go back, but he just wants this to go as smoothly as possible, so he doesn’t say anything. He lets Jared’s reading voice reach his ears, deeper, more professional than the voice he uses in casual conversation. He grins a little as he wonders how thick Jared’s southern accent will get, reading the dialect later on. It isn’t necessarily a book to be read out loud, but Jensen’s running out of options here, and he needs something to tide them over until lunch.

 _”A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once,”_ Jared reads, his face intent on the small print. Jensen settles back to enjoy it while it lasts, because he doesn’t know how long that will be, and at this point, he takes what he can get.

Sure enough, Jared’s looking decidedly displeased after lunch, when Jensen suggests he open the book again. “Can I ask you a question?” he asks firmly, like he’s annoyed at himself for bothering to ask permission. Jensen toys with the idea of saying ‘no’ briefly before he discards it, since it won’t do him any favors with Jared.

“Go right ahead, Jared,” he says, and Jared swallows and nods.

“Okay. Why are you having me do this?” It's a stone’s throw from belligerent, but Jensen doesn’t comment.

“You have a lovely reading voice,” he says. “It's a nice treat.”

“Do you get more money out of Morgan if you keep me longer? Is that it?” Jared asks, not believing him for a second. Kid always was too smart for his own damn good.

 _”Mr._ Morgan and I have a fixed rate, regardless of the time it takes to complete the training,” Jensen says, enunciating the first word.

“So what is it then? Why aren’t we moving on with the training?” Jared’s voice is pure confusion, and Jensen reflects that if he _did_ have any intention of giving Jared back to Jeff, the kid could use some training in patience. Come to think of it, he could use some anyway.

“We aren’t continuing the training because you needed a break,” Jensen tells him bluntly.

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “Look, Jensen, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I flipped out about the oral. It’ll be fine, really, I promise. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I won’t argue, I won’t fight you, you won’t have to punish me at all. Just please don’t make me wait any longer, okay?”

There’s desperation in the kid’s voice, and well, that’s not going to do him or anyone else any good. “Getting yourself worked up about it again?” Jensen asks softly, looking at Jared’s pleading eyes.

Jared nods reluctantly. “I guess I am a little. Please, sir,” he almost begs, and well, it wouldn’t do the kid any favors to keep him miserable, even if it was for his own good, Jensen decides. All in all, it's not a hard decision. He loves his job, after all, even if he never would have chosen it for himself, and he _wouldn't_ , he wouldn’t have, because it really is _wrong_ , and he’s glad to be getting out, but there’s a reason he stuck with it until now.

“All right, kid,” he says, laughing a little with the surprise. “We’ll move on then. You ready for your first professional-style lesson?”

Jared grins a little at that. “Yes, sir. I’ve been waiting,” he says, honest-to-God relieved.

“All right then. Let’s get the mats set up,” Jensen says, rising from his chair, and Jared follows him quickly, light on his feet as he pulls the mats up from where the Velcro holds them together in their stack and spreads them over the floor.

“We’ll start off with you standing up, if that’s alright with you,” Jensen says. “It’s not the most comfortable position, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t really plan on getting my desk too messy just yet.”

“Right,” Jared says, blushing a little, and he spreads his legs a little farther apart. Jensen closes in on him and drops to his knees.

“Okay, we’ll do this a little slower today, and I’ll give you some explanations as we go,” he says, smiling up at Jared. “It might go a little slower, and be a little more frustrating, but that’s what your training is about, after all.”

“Okay,” Jared says, nodding that he understands. He’s tensing up again a little, even if he’s trying not to, and Jensen puts his left hand at the small of Jared’s back, rubbing slow circles into the bare skin.

“Your first tip is to relax,” he says gently, and Jared grimaces.

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes, and it takes a minute, but he does allow his muscles to smooth out as Jensen runs the other hand up the inside of his bare thigh.

“Very good,” Jensen murmurs, his mouth just inches away from where Jared’s cock is beginning to grow hard. “Just calm down. You liked this the last time, didn't you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared mumbles, and Jensen looks up again.

“It’s Jensen, Jared,” he says simply.

“Right. Sorry, Jensen,” Jared says, chewing a little on his lower lip.

“You know, Jared, you don’t have to keep apologizing,” Jensen says softly, and at least the kid has the good sense not to apologize for that.

“Okay,” Jensen says, letting his left hand drift down to cup Jared's ass. “Are you ready?”

If Jared’s cock is any indication, he’s definitely ready. “Yes,” Jared responds, his voice determined.

“Okay,” Jensen says. “I guess the most important thing to remember is that there’s not really a wrong way to give a blowjob. Well, of course there is, but there are so many right ways, it’s pretty difficult to mess it up.”

“I’ve managed before,” Jared says softly, and Jensen’s little reassuring speech is obviously not doing the trick. He decides not to apologize or try to console Jared though. The kid doesn’t seem too upset, and they might as well just move on.

“Well, that’s why I'm here,” he says lightly, and he runs his right index finger up the side of Jared’s cock. “On Monday I had you mostly inside my throat, and while I know that it feels damn good, that’s the major leagues. I’m not going to expect you to do that for a while. If you have an especially strong gag reflex, we might avoid it altogether.”

“O–okay,” Jared says unsteadily, placing his hands tentatively on Jensen’s shoulders as his hips move into Jensen’s touch.

“Good boy,” Jensen says, and Jared’s hands relax a little. “So for starters, you can place one hand on the other man’s penis and stroke as you go,” he says, letting his right hand form a fist at the base of Jared’s cock. “Sort of a glorified hand job, only with more tongue on one end.” The base of his palm is resting against Jared’s balls, and Jared shifts a little.

“Good or bad?” Jensen asks.

“Good,” Jared replies earnestly, and Jensen grins.

“Good to know. So you can get a little pumping going, maybe midway up,” he says, and he tightens his grip and strokes Jared roughly. Jared gasps a little.

“But of course you don't want to go into it without any lube,” Jensen continues. “And really, that’s the best part of a blowjob. If you do it right, it’s kind of like do-it-yourself lube.”

Jared lets out a breathless laugh, and Jensen brings his head down, licks a long stripe down Jared’s shaft. “You can start slowly,” he whispers, giving a little swipe of his tongue to the glans. “Just barely touch it, make sure he’s really feeling it, make sure he’s ready for you.”

“I’m ready,” Jared groans above his head, and Jensen has to laugh.

“All right, we’ll work on that part later then,” he says. He closes his mouth around Jared’s glans and feels the kid shudder. He hums gently, lips closed, and Jared’s hips twitch violently. He moves down, working up saliva as he goes. He allows his right hand to join in, firm, hard strokes, and traces the undercurves of Jared’s ass with his left hand, dipping briefly into the perineum, and damn if the kid isn’t whimpering, squirming and shifting on his feet.

Jensen stops sucking for a second and looks back up at Jared. It’s an interesting view; the kid’s so freaking tall. “You get the idea?” he asks, and Jared’s face is comical.

“Yes, yes, I do, just keep going,” he nearly whines.

“Okay,” Jensen chuckles. “You can move into it, you know, I’ve had a lot of practice,” he says, and Jared nods impatiently.

It doesn't take much longer before Jared’s coming, just a minute or two of Jensen’s mouth and right hand switching places until he’s licking around the base of Jared’s cock at the same time as he massages Jared’s balls. The kid’s a little dazed afterwards, and Jensen allows himself to smirk as Jared sinks to his knees beside him.

“I know it’s your job and everything,” Jared says finally, “but you’re really, really good at that, and I’m not even trying to get brownie points or anything. I’m just telling you.”

“Give it a few days and you’ll get there too,” Jensen says, grinning at him, and Jared shakes his head a little as he sits back on his heels.

“I don't know, I’m just not sure I’m that good…” he begins, but Jensen cuts him off.

“Bullshit,” he says. “You said the same thing about hand jobs, you remember? And you’ve gotten to the point where you're a better masseur that any kid I’ve ever worked with before.”

Jared blushes a little at the praise. “Really?” he asks, like it's important for him to hear Jensen say it.

“I’m not lying to you, kid,” Jensen says. _Not about that, anyway._ “You’ve really got a talent for it.”

Jared laughs. “I guess that’s some consolation in this,” he says, but his voice is turning serious again, and Jensen cuffs him lightly on the arm.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, “but I could use a drink of water and a few minutes to catch my breath before we keep going.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jared says, grinning. “I can live with that.”

They take a brief break, and then Jensen leads Jared back to the mat. He’s genuinely surprised by how much Jared’s enjoying their little training session today, and he has to hand it to himself. Take a kid like Jared, traumatized by some sick fuck of a guard, and get him looking forward to oral? Yeah. It takes talent. But at the same time, it couldn’t happen if Jared didn’t have so much goddamn beautiful potential. He was wasted on that high school girlfriend of his, that’s for sure. And oh, Jensen hates to do this, hates to let him go. But he really can’t keep the kid, after all.

 _Because it’s wrong_ , he reminds himself, for what seems like the thousandth time since he made his decision. He allows himself for one minute to put himself in Jared’s shoes—just a quick little peek into what his life might have been like if Jeff wasn’t such a damn nice guy—and the split second of a picture is enough to reassure him that he is absolutely, categorically doing the Right Thing here. The fact that Jared is so perfect is probably just his cosmic penance for every kid he hasn’t saved, he tells himself grimly. Just his good fortune to lose everything over a kid who’s gorgeous and smart as paint and funny as all hell.

“There are a few things you’re going to want to remember for practicing oral yourself,” he says casually, rote, the words he knows by heart. It’s easy enough to pretend there isn’t a fucking revolution going on inside his chest. Jared sits cross-legged on the blue mats and looks him in the eye, nodding carefully, filing every detail into his memory. “The most important one, of course, is _don't forget to breathe_.”

Jared laughs, like he’s supposed to, and Jensen shakes his head. “You won’t believe how many idiot kids we get in here who still don’t quite get it,” he says.

Jared grins at that. “I bet I can manage,” he says, in what is probably his best imitation of a sexy voice. Jensen does his best to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, kid, I’m sure you can,” he replies, placating Jared. “But we’re gonna save that for tomorrow, okay? Give me a little more time on theory first.”

“The theory of the blowjob,” Jared says reverently, but he’s barely biting back one of those enormous grins. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Smartass,” Jensen says mildly. Jared looks unrepentant. “Okay. Another thing you can use to help you is the hand I was showing you earlier. Just in case you do turn out to have pussy reflexes,” he adds, hoping to get a rise out of Jared.

Jared splutters indignantly. “I can so totally deep throat!” he insists, ready to jump up and prove it, and Jensen raises a hand to stop him.

“Relax, tiger,” he says. “I’m sure you can. Just hold on, okay?” Jared rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told.

“You use the hand to keep someone from coming in too deep and choking you,” Jensen says. “Just in case, you know, because nothing says hot sex like gagging all over somebody's dick.”

Jared makes a face. “And you’ll also want to consider the biting,” Jensen says wryly. “Let me just state for the record that if you even think about biting down when we get to the actual field test, you’ll be regretting it for the rest of your life. And I can’t guarantee how long that will be.” The words slip out of his mouth so easily, like he’s not even thinking about the meaning behind them. But he is, oh, he is.

“I won’t, I promise,” Jared says, and Jensen nods.

“Good. Now, some men will like you to just rub your teeth across the shaft – _very_ gently – but not everyone will. And you’d better make damn sure you know what the situation is before you start using those teeth.”

“Right,” Jared agrees readily. The kid takes well to common sense, always has. All things considered, the afternoon passes quickly, and Jensen’s glad that Jared doesn’t push the issue of testing out fellatio then and there. Not that the kid would, but, well, he might. Jensen can’t remember having a more eager student. He wonders briefly whether Jared would be so excited if he let it get to the anal stage. Given the way Jared’s responded every time his hands have wandered a bit, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jared was a natural for that too, but with any luck, they’ll be out of here before he finds out. Despite Jared’s willingness, it feels more and more like rape if Jensen stops to think about it.

He should be in the home stretch. There’s nothing to incriminate him. He hasn’t even looked on any computers to see how long it would take to drive to Mexico, what sort of border security there is, for fear of it being traced back to him. All things considered though, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was easier to get into Mexico than out of it. Anyway, he’ll look into that tomorrow, on paper maps or something, something that won’t look suspicious. He ought to devote an hour or two in the morning to figuring out how to get out of the facility too. If he can just get Jared to his car, there shouldn’t be any problems.

Jared takes _A Confederacy of Dunces_ with him when he leaves, after Jensen promises him that it does get better. “You like Dickens, you’ll love how this one ends,” he says, and Jared nods his thanks as he refastens his own leash.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Jensen,” he says softly before the guard enters, and Jensen can feel his cheeks heating up a little as he replies.

“That’s right, Jared, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door has hardly closed behind Jared and the guard before it’s swinging open again, with Danneel knocking to announce her presence even as she opens it.

“Jensen! Hi,” she says, smiling.

“Danneel,” he responds. He hasn’t spoken to her all week, he realizes, and immediately thinks that’s a good thing. She doesn’t need to know the details of his fuck-up on Monday.

“I needed to drop by and talk to you for a minute,” she says.

Jensen gestures to the empty chair across from the desk. “Have a seat and talk away,” he says. “My night’s wide open.”

She sits down on the chair, the smile falling from her face as she meets his eyes. “I actually have something to tell you, Jensen,” she says.

His heart plummets into his stomach and he feels like he’s going to be sick. There’s no way this can be good, and he’s betting she’s heard about what happened Monday, from Jared or maybe Chris. He’ll be looking at disciplinary action, maybe even losing his job. Getting yanked away as Jared’s trainer before he can do anything. He barely stops himself from panicking.

“Oh?” he inquires, trying hard not to sound like he’s about to start yelling.

“Yeah,” she says. “You might have figured this out already, Jensen, but I’m actually the facility’s representative from the Texas Department of Security and Integration. And part of my job description is vetting any new personnel at the facility, especially ones with past incidents like you. Measuring them for competence and loyalty, just making sure everyone understands the program and isn’t going to cause any problems down the line.”

Oh, God.

“The good news is that I’ve been making my reports and found no problems with your behavior at all,” she says. “I’ll be recommending to the board of directors that you stay on at the facility. We actually won’t be meeting to discuss it until Friday morning, but I just wanted to give you the heads up and let you know that there shouldn’t be any problems.”

He tries his damnedest not to look too surprised. “Oh,” he says, and he laughs a little shakily. “Oh. Well. Thank you. And no, I had no idea that you were actually evaluating me.”

She winks at him. “Sneaky, huh? Told you I was good.”

“Well, thank you, Danneel,” he says. “I do really appreciate it, and I’m glad I made the cut.”

“Almost made the cut,” she corrects. “It won’t be official until Friday morning, but there really shouldn’t be any problems, as far as I can tell.”

“Thank you,” he says, and surprises himself with the sincerity in his voice. “And thanks for taking the time to tell me personally.”

“It’s not a problem, Jensen,” she says, standing to leave. “Just keep doing the good work and we’ll be lucky to have you.”

He almost cries from the relief as she leaves, unable to believe how close he’s come to fucking everything up. How much he believed she was onto him, somehow. It’s all the more incentive to act above suspicion. And to get out of here as quickly as he can. Across the hall from a Security and Integration officer all this time, and he didn’t even realize it.

It’s a fucking dangerous world. He’s forgotten just how bad, in the past three years. Time to refresh his memory.

\---

 _November 5th, 2076_

By Thursday, Jensen wakes up a few minutes before his alarm goes off, already accustomed to the lighter sleeping and the earlier mornings. He drinks his coffee and shaves. He’s not surprised to see the dark circles under his eyes.

He reasons that the nearest supermarket to the facility, maybe ten or fifteen miles down the road, won’t be open until later in the morning, so he gets out his GPS as he sits in the parking lot. He’s never really used it much before, doesn’t get out much, but he’s damn glad he has it now.

He isn’t exactly sure what he’s looking for, and he isn’t about to type “escape to mexico” in the search bar, so he brings up a map of the state, complete with highways. I-35 seems like the obvious choice, and it would land him right by Laredo, but he isn’t sure about how long it will take him to make the drive. It looks like it could be as long as ten hours, and he isn’t sure how long it will be before someone figures out what’s happened and starts looking for him. He can’t decide which is riskier: the most direct, obvious route, or the one that could add hours to the travel time. Fuck. And what about the possibility of a description of his car being sent out to police and patrolmen statewide? Fuck.

But he won’t make that decision quite yet. Soon, but not yet. He’s got a lot to worry about first, like how to get out of the building with Jared and how exactly to explain things to Jared. He still has no idea how the kid will react. It’s funny. Jensen likes the kid – okay, likes him a lot – and he feels like they understand each other pretty well, but he can’t predict what Jared will think, or what might make Jared believe that Jensen really does want to help him. He’ll worry about that later too.

He has a pretty good mental picture of the facility in his head, but he wants to make solidify it before making any definite plans. He’s almost positive that the largest bathroom is just by the inner courtyard, and that could mean this would be easier than he thought. It’s a bit of a walk across the building, but he takes it slow. Slow and steady, like he’s just heading for a shower, just in case.

It’s a small chance, but it pays off. The window might be a tight squeeze, but Jensen is confident they can manage it. All it takes is being in the bathroom when no one else is around, and praying to God there’s no alarm on the thing. But it doesn’t hurt to be too careful, and he’s prepared to test that theory.

He’s not uncomfortable stripping naked for the showers in the center of the room. He won’t be ashamed if anyone else happens to stop by to use the baths, as unlikely as it is. He lathers the shampoo deep into his skull, closing his eyes and letting the water wash over him. It’s going to be tricky if this doesn’t go as planned, but he’s alone, stark naked, and an employee. He won’t get into much trouble.

He waits for the air to grow thick with moisture, just in case, till he can see the steam rising off his body from the heat of the water. And he leans over and tries the window. _Just needing some fresh air,_ he can already hear himself explaining with a disarming smile, but it doesn’t come to that. The window sticks a little, creaking with disuse, but as he pushes on the latch, it opens. Wide enough for him to slip through, wide enough for Jared, and he doesn’t hear a sound. He puts his nose up to the gap, breathes in the fresh air, and looks out past the frosted glass. It’s the small courtyard, with a clear shot to the parking lot. Yahtzee.

He finishes his shower, towels off, and gets dressed, all by 8:30. He has plenty of time, so he leaves the building, the normal way, using the doors and smiling and waving as he passes Alona, and acting like everything is completely normal. And it is. He is going to be completely normal until the absolute last minute.

The grocery store is open by the time he gets there, and there are one or two men buying coffee up at the register. Jensen smiles casually and walks to the frozen foods aisle. There’s a surprisingly large selection to choose from, but he remembers Jared’s joking request for chocolate flavored condoms the other day and knows exactly what he’s looking for. The Triple Chocolate Fudgsicle pack. Eighteen different popsicles in white, dark and milk chocolate. Jensen knows he won’t need many of them, but he buys two packs, just because. He drives faster on his way back to the training facility, just to make sure they don’t melt.

Jared’s uncharacteristically good attitude to his training is still in place as he enters Jensen’s office, smiling with that ridiculously wide grin that has Jensen wishing they had more time together. “Good morning, Jensen,” he says, looking hopefully to where Jensen’s sitting on the folding mats.

“Hey, kid,” Jensen answers, smiling back. “You ready to try some practical application on the oral?”

Jared’s grin gets even wider, if that’s possible, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, definitely,” he says, and he’s across the room almost immediately, kneeling down next to Jensen.

“Awesome.” Jensen produces a box of the Fudgsicles then, not even trying to hide his smile at the surprise in Jared’s face. “I thought, you know, since you were so dead set on chocolate…”

“Oh, man, that’s…” Jared stops. “So what, I’m practicing on popsicles first?”

“You remember what I told you about being patient, and taking things at my pace?” Jensen asks.

Jared settles down into a more comfortable position. “Okay,” he says. “I mean, yes, Jensen. We’ll start with the Fudgsicles.”

“Wonderful. Now, would you prefer dark chocolate, white chocolate or milk chocolate?” Jensen asks smugly. That’s the one consolation to all of this – it doesn’t seem like he’s done Jared any irreparable harm, and if anything, the kid’s a little too eager for parts of his training. There’s no telling how long they’ll have before the moment’s right to get out, but if he can keep Jared smiling, keep him laughing, it’s all going to be okay.

“Dark chocolate, please,” Jared beams, and Jensen hands the popsicle over.

Jensen’s not sure why he’s following through with the charade of Jared’s training, knowing full well that the kid isn’t going to use those skills if Jensen has any say in the matter, but he only really wonders in the mornings and at night. Every time Jared’s in front of him, he has to remind himself that he’s not really training Jared, because Jared is not really going to serve as a personal intern.

The only thing that keeps his resolve firm on that point is his knowledge that he would probably be too jealous to hand Jared back to his lawful mentor and supervisor. In fact, he would probably be so jealous that he wouldn't stop thinking about Jeff, fucking Jared, with those wide lips taking Jeff into Jared’s mouth, those goddamn big eyes maybe looking up with passion, maybe looking down with shame, and he knows the thoughts would be enough to drive him crazy in less than a week. Even if the jealousy didn’t drive him crazy, the image of Jeffrey Dean Morgan having sexual relations with anyone would probably be enough to drive him out of his mind.

So no, he’s not really training Jared, but damn if this isn’t fun to watch. Although fun might be the wrong word. Jensen’s looking for something a little closer to home, something that pulls on his heart and heats up his stomach and makes his dick start to get hard in his boxers all at once. He’s not sure if the word exists, or if it’s just _Jared_ , but it’s fucking intoxicating and that’s how he feels.

Jared lets his long fingers tear the waxy wrapper from the Fudgsicle slowly, swiping his tongue across his lower lip as he spreads the paper apart and pushes the chocolate tip out from the hole he has created. Jensen can’t help but stare, even if he has his game face on, letting the kid think he’s watching to critique him. Because Jared can’t know this isn’t a training. Jared can’t know anything yet, and the sheer frustration makes Jensen want to throw something against a wall, or go for a workout. A workout would be a really, really good idea, if it didn’t mean facing Chris. But he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. If he comes to it.

Jared kneels on the folding mats and lowers his head, looking up at Jensen through hooded eyes as he raises the chocolate popsicle to his lips. He’s fucking _seducing_ Jensen, or trying, at any rate, and Jensen decides to just let it play out. It’ll be interesting to see the boy’s interpretation of how to successfully, sexily fellate a Fudgsicle. Jensen settles back to enjoy the show.

Jared’s not using his fingers against the popsicle, probably because they would be cold and sticky, and Jensen files that away too, to mention after Jared sucks the thing down to a splintered wooden stick. After all, he’s really unsure about the ethics of allowing the training to progress at all, and he wants to take it as slowly as he can. He’ll have Jared sucking on popsicles all morning.

Jared starts small, his pink tongue darting out to lick curiously at the tip of the Fudgsicle. Jensen watches with no small amount of interest as his tongue grows a little surer, lapping around the frozen chocolate and inching further down. He’s got his eyes closed by this point, and rather than moving his hand to bring the popsicle closer to his mouth, he’s ducking his head down, as if he really did happen to be licking some other guy’s stationary dick. Jensen can’t tear his eyes away, even for a minute, as Jared finally brings his lips flush with the tip of the Fudgsicle and opens, his mouth closing again as if he’s had years of practice.

Watching Jared’s cheeks hollow out as he swallows, leaning down to take more of the dessert into his mouth, Jensen can feel his balls getting tight in spite of himself. No matter how unethical it is, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad that they would probably have a few... _hands-on_ blowjob lessons before he and Jared got out. Because Jared’s always been a quick learner, and he’s devoting an almost obscene amount of attention to the task at hand. Then again, obscenity may be the point.

Jared moves his lips along the edge of the Fudgsicle, and if Jensen looks closely he can see the creamy liquid collecting at the corners of Jared’s mouth. He can imagine how Jared’s lips taste right now, cold and sweet and a little flushed all at once. Jared, for his part, seems determined to impress Jensen.

He lowers his head further and further down, past the point where there's no popsicle left and almost to the point where his fingertips hold on to the end of the stick. Jensen remembers Jared’s boast from the day before— _I can totally deep throat, I promise!—_ and has to laugh, because the kid is set to prove it. Jared bobs back up, lips tight against the popsicle as he pulls his head off it slowly, then slides back down. It’s melting rapidly from the heat in his mouth, and a thin trail of chocolate dribbles down his left palm, the one holding the stick. Jensen knows how badly Jared must want to lick it off, and he allows himself to smile at the thought. Jared is too wrapped up in his demonstration to notice.

Of course, after another few thrusts, there’s hardly any popsicle left, and a part in the middle breaks away, splattering down onto Jared’s navy sweatpants. Jensen laughs as the kid jumps up, drawn out of his trance, and tries to reattach the half-melted section.

“Don’t worry about it, Jared,” he says easily. “You can just get rid of the evidence.”

Jared pauses, gets a mischievous look on his face for a minute, but then appears to discard whatever smart remark had come to mind in favor of sucking the rest of the Fudgsicle off the stick in one long pull. He claps a hand to his nose as he swallows, eyes wide, and Jensen’s laughing again despite himself.

Jared manages another swallow and chokes out the word “Brainfreeze.”

Jensen smiles and nods. “I figured as much. You took that pretty fast, kid.”

Jared winces as he takes his hand down, eyes still snapped open. “Is that a bad thing?” he asks.

Jensen shakes his head. “Nah, not really,” he says. “Pretty good for a starting point. And we’ll have all morning to work on technique.”

Jared’s eyes get even bigger, if that’s possible, and he looks at Jensen with a hint of dismay. “But I thought we’d _been_ working on technique,” he says, in what isn’t quite a whine.

Jensen fixes him with a semi-stern glare. “And we’re not finished working on technique, Jared. And jumping ahead won’t help you, either. I know you’re anxious to get on with the deep throating, but that isn’t going to stop me from making sure you know how to do other things as well.”

The ridiculous nature of the lecture strikes him suddenly, and it’s all he can do to keep himself composed as he changes tactics. “Do you remember what I was saying about using your hands?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Is that a yes?” Jensen asks, and he’s proud of how normal he sounds, almost like he was just a trainer and Jared was just another kid.

“Yes, Jensen,” Jared sighs, and this time the eye roll is obvious.

“Great. I’m delighted to hear it,” Jensen says.

“You want me to try _that_ on a popsicle?” Jared asks skeptically.

“That’s right,” Jensen agrees.

“But my fingers will get cold,” Jared says, and now it’s impossible to mistake his whine for anything else. He’s staring up at Jensen with those enormous puppy dog eyes, and Jensen has to wonder how desperate the kid is for some personal interaction, if he’s willing to risk arguing with Jensen about something. Then again, it's proof that the impromptu spanking and blowjob fiasco hadn’t really scarred the kid beyond repair, and Jensen’s grateful for that.

He takes a step closer to Jared and rests his hand on the kid’s shoulder, solid, reassuring, and firm. “Too bad,” he says lightly, squeezing Jared’s shoulder to show he’s not angry. “I bet your mouth is getting cold too.”

“It is. I could use something to warm it up,” Jared says huskily.

“Maybe we'll get some nice hot soup for lunch today,” Jensen says, taking his hand away and stepping out of Jared’s personal space. He picks up the box of Fudgsicles. “Dark chocolate again, or something else?”

“Milk chocolate this time, I suppose,” Jared sighs, and Jensen hands the new popsicle over.

“Try it a little slower, with the hands this time,” he instructs, and Jared unwraps the popsicle, much less of a production the second time, then looks back at Jensen.

“If I'm using my hands, then can you hold the popsicle in place for me, please?” he asks, and Jensen wants to say no, but really, who could say no in that position? So he squats down beside the kid, crossing his legs and taking the end of the stick. Jared’s wrists brush against his hands as the kid takes the base of the Fudgsicle in his fingers and lowers his mouth to the end again, giving a little moan as the popsicle enters his mouth. _Fucking little slut_ , Jensen thinks, but he doesn’t regret it.

Two popsicles later, Jared is complaining that his teeth will fall out if he consumes another popsicle within the next forty years, and Jensen decides to take pity on him, even if he’s not that anxious for the show to end. Jared is picking up on the subtleties of sucking Fudgsicles nicely, and it’s a pleasant appetizer of what the kid is going to learn about sucking cock. And well, the reminder of what’s ahead of them is more than enough incentive for Jensen to give in to Jared’s whines.

“All right, then, we’ll lay off the popsicles for now,” he agrees. “Are you ready for some lunch then? Maybe that hot soup?”

Jared shoots him a nasty look. “I am completely and totally sick of swallowing,” he says flatly, and Jensen laughs.

“All right, then, we’ll skip lunch for now.” He hesitates, seeing Jared’s wary look, and swiftly adds, “Of course we don’t have to go right back to training. I’m sure your jaw could use a break first. We could…” he pauses. “We could go down to the gym if you like.”

Jared nods. “That would be okay,” he says. “I probably need to burn off some of the sugar you’ve been forcing down my throat all morning.”

“Oh, you know you loved it,” Jensen says, laughing a little at the memory. “You have the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Jared shrugs a little apologetically. “Yeah, well, I haven’t had candy in about three months,” he says softly, almost like he doesn’t want to upset Jensen by reminding him, and Jensen mentally kicks himself for still being such an idiot sometimes, for still not understanding Jared’s life after so many years on the other side.

“You want a glass of water before we head to the gym?” he asks, and Jared smiles gratefully.

“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be great,” he says.

“No trouble at all,” Jensen says, and really, it’s not. They take their seats in front of Jensen’s desk and Jensen pours Jared a drink, watching as Jared drains half of it in one gulp, then the other half a moment later.

“You should have told me if you were thirsty,” he says, mild reproof as he refills the glass.

“Sorry,” Jared apologizes, squinting a little. “I just… wanted to keep going, you know?”

Jensen noticed that, yeah. “Can I ask you a question, Jared?” he says.

“Of course you can,” Jared answers, broad thumb playing across the lid of his cup. He’s still never quite mastered the art of sitting still. He leaves unspoken the part about how Jensen is his supervisor, and he can do whatever the hell he likes. Jensen appreciates that.

“Why are you so eager to get on with your training?” he asks, watching closely for Jared’s reaction. “Is it because you want to get it over with?”

Jared keeps staring into his glass. “I –” he begins, then stops. “I don’t know,” he says. “I – maybe it’s because it felt really good when you did it to me, and I –”

“You what?” Jensen asks.

“I guess I wanted to return the favor,” Jared says, and it’s half a question.

“Because you wanted me to feel good, or because you wanted to learn?” Jensen asks, not sure why it’s so important to him.

“I don’t know,” Jared says, his face flushing again and his hands circling the glass of water nervously. “I really don’t, I-”

“That’s okay,” Jensen says, because that tells him more than a straight up answer would, knowing Jared. “You can forget I said anything. Are you ready to go to the gym?”

“Yeah,” Jared says, standing up quickly. “That would be great. And thanks for letting me have some water.”

Jensen is hoping that when they get to the gym, he and Jared can take the track again, because really, he doesn’t need to be spending any time talking to Chris. The man is too damn smart for his own good. Either that or Jensen’s a really shitty liar and Chris is the only one who pays close enough attention to tell.

Unfortunately for Jensen, he hasn’t said so much, not in so many words, and they’re barely through the door before Jared is off his leash, one end still dangling from Jensen’s hand, and halfway to the free weights. Jensen considers taking off after him, asking him to if he wants to run or jog, on the track where you can only go two abreast, but he’s pretty sure that would involve explanations and really, he’s not looking to make a scene. He takes off on the track himself and hopes that Chris won’t follow.

Chris follows, and catches up, in half a lap of easy strides. Jensen’s immediate instinct is to speed up and lose him, but Chris is pretty good at not getting lost, and he would probably take that as an invitation for a heart to heart, so Jensen slows down a fraction instead, allowing Chris to pull even with him and match his pace.

“So, Jensen,” Chris says, and it’s friendly but pretty serious underneath. “Long time, no see.”

“I was in here Monday,” Jensen answers levelly. He’s not really going fast enough to be short of breath, but his voice quavers a little, and he hopes Chris can blame it on the jogging.

“Yeah, you were, hogtied to that pretty little intern of yours, too.”

“He’s not mine,” Jensen snaps irritably, even if he knows as he says it that it’s exactly the wrong thing to say, and Chris will take it as confirmation that he’s having _very_ unprofessional feelings for Jared. He has a knack of saying the exact wrong thing, and sometimes he wonders how he survived this long.

“My bad,” Chris says. Jensen doesn’t think he’s going to let it go, and of course he’s not. “I meant _Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s_ pretty little intern.”

Jensen doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t look at Chris, just jogs. After a minute Chris speaks up again.

“Either way, you sure seemed set on avoiding me. And I haven’t seen you since. It’s not like you.”

Jensen may be a shitty liar, and he may have a bad habit of speaking before he thinks, but he does know that at the basis of every good lie is a kernel of truth. Even better if it’s not a lie, just carefully selected information.

“Jared and I had a very difficult training session on Monday,” he says, and it’s hard to say it, because already it seems like a lifetime ago. “He was resistant to the training and I had to discipline him. I took it a little too far.”

Chris snorts at that. “You took a kid’s discipline too far, Jensen? Bullshit. You don’t even hit them, do you?”

Jensen flinches at the memory. “I hit Jared,” he says in a low voice. “And then I forcibly progressed with the training.”

Chris is still looking skeptical, so he swallows his pride and continues. “And anyway, Jared was right.”

“Jared was right about what, exactly?” Chris asks.

“I should have listened to his concerns about the training instead of vetoing them, maybe,” Jensen says reluctantly. “Definitely. And anyway, I’ve needed to work on the training since that point to try and rebuild our relationship.”

Chris looks more sympathetic than skeptical now, but there’s a note of pity in his voice that Jensen finds almost as bad. “You know it doesn’t really matter in the end, Jensen,’ he says quietly. “You train him, he goes to Jeffrey Dean Morgan, and then you never see him again. You move on and train other kids, he moves on and fucks other supervisors. That’s the end of your… your _relationship,_ right there.”

Jensen knows his forehead is creased with the glare he’s shooting Chris. “Stop making this about something it’s not, Chris,” he spits. “I meant our working relationship. The sooner it’s going smoothly, the sooner the kid is out of here and yeah, like you said, out of my life forever.”

“Which would be a good thing, yeah, because your life could get back to normal?” Chris asks, again in that damn sympathetic voice.

Jensen stumbles a little over his own feet as they pass Jared and he smiles, waving the hand that isn’t lifting a barbell. “I’m not sure if my life is ever going to be normal again,” he says in a low voice. Chris decides mercifully to change the subject.

“So Danneel was asking me about your performance the other day,” he says, and Jensen wonders if Chris thinks that’s the reason he’s never going back to normal.

Jensen smiles a little. “Guess she interrogated you, huh?”

“Or something like that,” Chris acknowledges. “Course I told her you were a good little boy who hasn’t gotten into any trouble since I’ve known you.”

Jensen pushes Chris’s shoulder laughingly, and Chris pushes back, grinning. “No, seriously though, man, I told her she didn’t have anything to worry about. She seemed to think you were clean too.”

Jensen nods. “That’s good to know, Chris. Thanks.”

Chris clears his throat. “Not a problem, Jensen. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think it was true.” Jensen manages a small smile in response. “And anyway, you’re a good guy. Don’t know how I could have lived with myself if I’d told her any different.”

Jensen nods, surprised to find himself thinking that he’s going to miss Chris, just a little. Chris is a good guy too, he knows. “I appreciate that, Chris,” he says, and Chris claps him on the back.

“Like I said, not a problem,” he assures Jensen. “And like I said last week, any time you need to come talk to me, or go get shitfaced drunk, you know where to find me. Maybe after this first training is over. Just don’t be such a stranger.”

And with that Chris speeds up, passing ahead of Jensen and jogging back into the main area of the gym, probably to scare the shit out of Jared by breathing down his neck with the weights. Jensen keeps up his pace until he starts to feel it in his legs, and then he takes Jared to the showers and back to his office.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lunch?” Jensen asks again, just to make sure.

Jared rolls his eyes. “Yes, Jensen, I said I didn’t want any lunch. And I still don’t. Maybe if you hadn’t forced me to eat a million popsicles this morning, I would be hungry.”

Jensen chooses not to remark on the smartass tone, far too familiar for an intern to take with a supervisor. “A million might be an exaggeration,” he says instead.

Jared smiles, and God, it’s perfect, those dimples and the way his eyes fucking… _sparkle_. “Okay, five hundred thousand,” he agrees happily.

“I didn’t remember you being this annoyed about it when I brought them out,” Jensen reminds him. “I thought you were _excited_ for the trip down cavity road.”

Jared just grins harder. “I was, until I froze all my taste buds off,” he says, and Jensen raises his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay, we’ll pass on lunch then, since you spoiled your meal with all that sugar,” he says, ignoring Jared’s insulted expression. “You did really well this morning, actually, kid,” he says, and Jared smirks in a self-satisfied way that lets Jensen know he was trying his best, and he’s pleased that Jensen’s acknowledging it.

“I’m a fast learner,” Jared says softly, smiling at Jensen with more coy seductiveness than honest happiness. Jensen has to remind himself that it’s all an act, all a game Jared’s playing to make training more bearable, before he forgets to breathe.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and well, it would be hard to miss. “So I think if you’re willing to skip lunch, we might as well move on to more practical application of the skills you’ve been practicing.”

“You mean giving you a blowjob, sir?” Jared asks, and the transition to the word ‘sir’ from Jensen’s name lets him know that the kid is serious about being ready to stop all the bullshit and bring on the oral sex.

Jensen raises his eyebrows. “Yes, Jared, that was what I meant,” he said. “If you feel like you’re ready.”

“I’m ready, sir. I promise I am,” Jared says earnestly.

“You can call me Jensen,” Jensen reminds him as gently as he can. “And if you need to stop at any point on the first round, that’s fine.”

“I won’t need to stop,” Jared says, and his eyes don’t waver as he looks steadily into Jensen’s.

Jensen meets his gaze. “I know you won’t. But if you do, it’s okay.”

Jared jerks his head briefly as if he’s trying to shake away a fly. “I won’t,” he repeats.

Jensen sighs a little as he nods. “Okay,” he says, and he stands up from the chair, stretching his legs. He walks over to the mats and Jared follows. Jensen has already decided to do this on his back, make it easier on the kid’s knees.

“Jared,” he says, as he brings his hands to his belt, “I just want to reiterate that I’m trusting you here. I don’t think either one of us wants to deal with the consequences of any biting.”

Jared scoffs visibly at that. “I didn’t bite the fuckers at general. I’m not going to bite _you_ ,” he says, as if that would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do. And really, it would be.

Jensen nods. “I trust you.” He pauses, and this is a good time as any to start getting the kid ready for it. “Do you trust me, Jared?”

Jared pauses. Blinks at him. “Do I trust you?” he repeats, probably stalling for time. Jared’s a smart enough kid not to go for the obvious answers.

“Yeah.” Jensen bites his lip, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “For example, I might ask you to do some strange things-”

“Things like eating half a dozen popsicles before I can continue with my training?” Jared supplies, a mischievous smile flickering across his face before he replaces it with a properly blank expression.

Jensen snorts. “Kind of like that. Maybe even weirder,” he says. “Things… things that you don’t necessarily understand. Things that I might not want to explain right away. And you’ll have to trust me on them, and take my word for it. Without balking or asking too many questions until they’re over.”

He isn’t sure how else he can say it, how else he can prepare the kid. Because flat-out telling him is out of the question. He wouldn’t trust Jensen on something like that, no matter how much he plays the good cop with Jared, and he doesn’t want to make Jared suspicious. Make him think that he’s trying to use him for more information, or to press other charges and send Jared someplace worse. Which is what Jared, or hell, _anyone_ would most likely think in that situation. The kid can’t just take Jensen’s word for something that serious. It’s better to plant a seed or two now, get him used to the idea, and just hope he cooperates when the time comes.

“Just… things that you might not think of as directly pertaining to your training,” he finishes lamely. “They could be kind of confusing, but I’ll just need you to listen to me. Do you think you can do that?”

Jared’s watching him intently, and he has no idea what’s going on in those big eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Jensen, I can do that.” Then he tries for a smile, even if it’s a little forced. “Now is that all some trick of yours to try and keep on pushing the blowjob back? Because it’s not working.”

Jensen laughs and starts to unbuckle his belt. “Okay, fine,” he says. “I give up. Have it your way.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Jared grins, and then turns his attention to where Jensen’s fingers are pushing his jeans and boxers down past his knees and discarding them on the floor, not even bothering to fold them and set them in a chair. He’s gotten used to casual nudity by now, even gotten used to the excited thrill in his stomach when he starts undressing around Jared, but he knows he’s still smiling a little idiotically as he sits down on the mats and leans back, placing his left arm under his head to act as a pillow. Oh, he’s going to enjoy this one.

“You don’t need to worry about swallowing today,” Jensen adds as an afterthought, raising his head to look down at Jared, settling himself between Jensen’s legs and propping himself up on his elbows. “We’ll stick with Kleenex for the first couple of days. So you can just get used to the idea first.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea,” Jared retorts.

“Well, get used to the execution then,” Jensen says, leaning back down. He’s already more than half hard at the thought of Jared’s lips on his dick, after a morning spent watching those lips in action and carefully not jerking off in his shower. Although he’s not sure whether jerking off would have made much of a difference at this rate.

“Stop me if I’m doing it wrong,” Jared says in a low voice, and he cautiously laps at Jensen’s cock.

Jensen breathes in and out as Jared reaches the base of his dick, leaving a trail of warmth as he pulls back for a moment. Jared looks up at him and smiles briefly, meeting his eyes before opening his mouth a little wider and sealing his lips around the head of Jensen’s cock.

Jensen’s no stranger to receiving blowjobs, but he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of it, and Jared seems to have a pretty good idea of what he’s doing, as limited as his experience may be. He tongues softly at Jensen’s cock, and Jensen allows one hand to come to rest on the edge of his thigh, fighting the urge to tangle it in Jared’s hair and help the kid out.

Jared doesn’t need any encouraging at all, in fact, as he starts moving down the length of the shaft, not particularly slowly and very deliberately. Jensen’s fingernails dig into his leg as he feels himself responding almost immediately to Jared’s mouth, and one of Jared’s large, warm hands comes up to cup his balls, with a tentative squeeze. Damn kid knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Whoa, slow down there, kid,” Jensen rasps, his own voice sounding strange to his ears. “I know you’re trying to prove you can deep throat, but if you don’t take it down a notch, this is going to be over pretty damn soon. And I know you don’t want to go back to the popsicles just yet.”

Jared gives a little laugh in the back of his throat, and it tickles. Jensen nearly loses it before Jared is pulling back slowly, rising up as he drags his lips back to their starting point. He pulls off with a wet smack.

“You want me to go slower, Jensen?” he asks, eyes wide and innocent.

“Yes, god damn it, unless you want to be sucking popsicles for the next week,” Jensen grinds out, trying not to thrust up where Jared’s mouth had been.

“All right,” Jared says slowly, looking at him with eyes that are turning smoky. “I guess I can try that.”

He brings his hand to the base of Jensen’s cock as he takes Jensen into his mouth again, soft fingers that only barely touch Jensen, leaving him wanting more, harder, and cautious licking with his tongue. Jensen’s not sure whether there isn’t more imagination than pressure.

“I know you weren’t being this gentle with the Fudgsicles,” he groans, and Jared laughs again.

“Make up your mind. Do you want it fast or slow?” he asks, slurping a little this time as he raises his head.

“If this is all you’ve learned from training, we can go back to the Fudgsicles,” Jensen threatens, and Jared grins.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll find a happy medium.”

“Surest way to a happy ending,” Jensen says, and Jared gives a startled, incredulous laugh.

“God, you’re a dork, Jensen,” he whispers, but he slides his lips back over Jensen’s cock and _this_ is what a blowjob is supposed to be. Jared’s sucking fervently, his eyes fixed on Jensen’s cock, and his hand moving in a deep rhythm to meet his lips. He works up a healthy amount of saliva and slides down, tongue leading the way.

Jensen allows himself to close his eyes for a moment and feel Jared’s mouth on his bare skin, tongue working its way down the length of Jensen’s cock and beginning to pull up before sinking back down. Jensen grips his thigh and reminds himself not to thrust.

Still, it’s not long at all before he gasps, stiffens, and begins to thrust as Jared pulls his head up, not letting his right hand leave Jensen’s cock even when Jensen’s hips buck up, out of his control.

Jared is watching, a self-satisfied smile on his face. When Jensen sinks back onto the mats, Jared sits up long enough to position himself next to Jensen, lying down with his head at Jensen’s shoulder and his legs curled up behind him.

“Did I do okay?” he asks, and it’s all Jensen can do not to tell the kid that he’s never letting him go, because that’s not true, no matter how much he wants it.

“Yeah, kid, you did okay,” he says instead, and his voice is drawling in his content. “You gotta learn to watch the backtalk during training though, you know that.”

“Sorry,” Jared says, but he doesn’t seem sorry at all as he scoots a little closer, until he’s almost touching Jensen.

Jensen gives in, lifts his arm and drapes it around Jared’s shoulder, giving the kid tacit permission to close the distance until they’re flush with each other, warm and solid. He lies there, eyes closed, for a good three minutes, pretending he doesn’t ever have to get up.

He gets up. “You know, kid, I think we could use a break before we keep going,” he says finally. “You might not be hungry, but I could eat a horse.”

“Or you could just have some Fudgsicles,” Jared suggests sweetly, watching as Jensen wipes himself down with a small cloth.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass, but thanks,” Jensen says dryly. He picks up his boxers and jeans, carrying them over to his desk before hitting the intercom.

“I know it’s a little late, Alona, but if we could get some lunch I’d appreciate it,” he says, sitting back in his desk chair and draping his jeans over the desk as he pulls on his boxers. Jared, sitting on the mat with his legs crossed in front of him, makes a disappointed face. Jensen smirks back and begins to put on his jeans as Alona promises she’ll get some food to them right away.

“Oh, and Alona? Do you maybe have any hot dogs?” he asks sweetly, stifling his laughter at the look that sweeps across Jared’s face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “But no promises.”

“That’s great, Alona. Thank you.”

“That was _mean_ ,” Jared says firmly as Jensen takes his hand off the button.

Jensen shrugs and stands up to zip up his jeans. “What can I say? I’m a bad person.”

Jared shakes his head. “You’re not that bad, not really,” he says, and he sounds so sincere that Jensen wonders for a second if he actually believes it. It’s the first time he’s ever heard something like _that_ from an intern.

“Nope, I’m just bad enough to make you suck on hot dogs,” Jensen says lightly. “On that note, though, I do appreciate that you refrained from biting.”

“I’m not five,” Jared says, making a face.

Jensen has to laugh at that. “Come on up here,” he says, gesturing to the chairs. “If you’re not going to eat, you can at least keep me company and let me know what you think of strawberry lube.”

Jared gets to his feet and comes over as Jensen walks around to sit in front of the desk beside him.

“Are we doing any more, uhm, practical applications to the training today?” Jared asks, and Jensen is uncertain whether there’s a touch of hope or just curiosity.

“We might,” he says. “First we’ll be doing a little review of your technique though. _After_ I get some food. You think you can live with that?”

Jared smiles. “Yeah.”

“Good man,” Jensen says. “Now, tell me honestly, what do you think about flavored lube, as opposed to the Fudgsicles?”


	7. Chapter Six

_November 6th, 2076_

It’s about a quarter to ten on Friday morning when Danneel walks into Jensen’s office, smiling broadly. He looks up from his book in surprise, and tries not to be too hasty to flip over the page so it no longer details the Rio Grande.

“Danneel,” he says, rising to his feet to greet her. She pulls him into a quick hug, but by now he’s used to it. It’s just the way she is.

“Jensen!” she exclaims, entirely too bright and cheerful for that hour of the morning, even with a steady supply of caffeine. “I have great news for you.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to guess what exactly this great news is, but Jensen smiles and plays along. “Oh, yeah?” he asks.

“You’re done with the probationary period, and officially an employee here,” she says, and even though he knew it was coming, something in the words makes him feel like he can breathe again, like he can sleep easy, like he can have a day of rest before he has to start making serious plans to get to Mexico. “You’re in the clear, Jensen.”

His honest relief must be evident in his face, because she’s laughing a little at him, and he laughs along, and he’s sure again that everything is going to be exactly okay. Not perfect, but okay, and he has the rest of his life to make it better.

“That’s… that’s really great, Danneel, so thank you,” he says finally.

She just laughs it off. “Don’t thank me, Jensen,” she says warmly. “You did it all. You’re the one who was able to turn such a horrible childhood into such a wonderful, productive adulthood. You’re a truly dedicated citizen, and we should have more like you.”

If Jensen’s laugh is a little strangled and his cheeks are a little red, it doesn’t matter, because she takes it for modesty. “And don’t forget, Jensen, if you ever decide you want to bat for your own team for a change, I’m just down the hall,” she jokes.

Jensen grins and nods. “You’ll be the first one I call,” he promises.

She smiles and pulls him into one more hug, and the force in his arms as he squeezes back surprises him a little. He’s just so fucking relieved.

As he lets her go, the door to his office opens again and Jared stands in the doorway, looking uncertain, the hand he brought up to unsnap his leash falling slowly back down to his side.

“Oh, you can come in, Jared,” Jensen says. “You remember Miss Harris.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, subdued.

“Thank you again for everything, Danneel,” Jensen says.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she says. “And everything worked out so wonderfully, and Chris and Mr. Morgan were so positive about your performance –”

“You spoke to Mr. Morgan?” he asks uncertainly. He somehow knows he should have been expecting this, should have thought it was obvious, but no one has said a damn word to him about it and it still throws him for a loop. He’s been caught off guard and he has the horrible suspicion that Danneel Harris and even Jeffrey Dean Fucking Morgan now know more about his citizenship status than he does himself, and the thought is vaguely terrifying.

“Well, of course I did,” Danneel says, looking slightly surprised. “He’s your legal guardian, after all, and we’re supposed to speak to the people who know you best–”

“Excuse us for a moment, Jared,” Jensen says tightly. “Just a moment, Danneel.” He walks over to the door in two large, angry steps, taking Jared by the arm and maneuvering him into the hallway. He just catches the eye of the guard standing near Danneel’s office, and waves him over.

“If you could watch Jared for the next few minutes, I’d be grateful,” Jensen says tightly, handing the man the leash.

“I can do that, Mr. Ackles,” the guard responds, and Jensen nods his thanks.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” he tells Jared, who is watching him with large, dark eyes and an unreadable half-frown.

He walks back into his office and closes the door firmly, almost but not quite slamming it behind him. Danneel still looks taken aback.

“I’d prefer we not discuss my relationship with Jeffrey Dean Morgan in front of the intern I’m training for him,” Jensen says tightly. “It might somehow undermine my authority.”

Danneel winces. “Oh, God, Jensen, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” she says earnestly. “It just didn’t occur to me – around most interns, of course, you could say anything. But Jared’s still in training, and for Mr. Morgan too –”

“Yes, that would be the problem,” Jensen says, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the desk. “When exactly did you speak to Jeff Morgan?”

“Well, we met for lunch three times,” Danneel says, as if she’s still confused by Jensen’s extreme reaction to the information. “Once before we contacted you – it’s standard procedure to speak with the legal guardian first as a preliminary session; it helps us find our bearings and establish definite contact information for the person under investigation – and then again after he brought Jared in and you started working here, just to make sure everything was going according to plan, and then again yesterday for the concluding meeting.”

“And when exactly was your preliminary meeting, if you don’t mind my asking?” Jensen asks.

“It was on the first of October,” Danneel says promptly. “And he was asked not to mention the meeting to you, if that makes a difference. We like to lay the groundwork before prospective employees start work, and certainly before alerting them in any way that might make them change their behavior.”

So it was before Jeff called him about the job. That fucker.

“What exactly did Mr. Morgan say about me at the first lunch?” Jensen asks. “Unless it’s classified?”

Danneel laughs, a little shakily. “Oh, no, not at all, Jensen. Transparency is a very important part of our national ideals. You know that. And you’re fully entitled to information about yourself, unless it’s being held up for civil or criminal prosecution.” _Or the government deems it otherwise necessary._

“Right, of course. My bad.” Jensen tries to make his voice less intense, but he isn’t sure how successful he is. Whatever Jeff meant by this, it’s got to be because he had a reason for it, and Jensen got tired of living his life to Jeff Morgan’s whims years ago.

“Mr. Morgan did actually express some reservations,” Danneel admits, “but of course after I met you I realized how unfounded they were. He did state that he thought you had worked through your youthful rebellion, and blamed it on the loss of your parents. But he was fairly sure you were past all that, and he thought you would make a fine employee here.”

“He thought that about me, did he?” Jensen asks, going for light and careless and sure Danneel isn’t buying it.

She lays a hand gently on his arm and speaks with complete sincerity as she looks into his eyes. “It’s perfectly alright, Jensen. Don’t worry about it. He just expressed the minor concern. He also said you excelled in your job as a personal trainer, and if that didn’t express patriotism and support of the government, he didn’t know what would. And of course your dedication to your work just shows what a transformation you’ve made since you were a child. At any rate, it’s all over now. Mr. Morgan’s fears were unfounded. And yesterday he expressed how glad he was that your check had been completed without any problems, and that he was always sure you would mature as you got older and had even more experience working here. So really, there’s nothing to be angry about. And it’s all over now, anyway.”

Jensen nods, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for the overreaction,” he says. “It was just… a shock to hear that, you know? And in front of one of my interns… I try to keep my past out of the training, of course…”

“Oh, of course,” Danneel says. “There’s really no need to worry about anything, Jensen.”

He smiles briefly, even if his heart isn’t in it. “Thank you,” he says. “I suppose it’s about time for me to start reestablishing contact with Mr. Morgan, if he thinks I’m going to turn traitor.”

Danneel smiles sympathetically. “He seems like a very nice man,” she offers. “And you know, a lot of legal guardians feel they have to cover their bases on the off chance that the person being investigated really is engaged in anti-government activities. So they don’t get in trouble with the law as well.”

And of course, he should have realized it earlier. That’s all Jeffrey Dean Morgan has ever cared about, anyway. Ensuring the safety of his own skin.

“And on that note, I should probably go about returning to my pro-government activities,” Jensen says, jerking his head ruefully at the door. Danneel takes the hint quickly, thank God.

“It’s been a real pleasure, Jensen,” she says, patting his arm awkwardly. “I meant every word when I said it was an amazing accomplishment to come as far as you have. You’re a credit to your country.”

“Thank you,” Jensen says, and she’s so earnest, she’s trying so hard to make him feel better, that he really wants to mean it. “Maybe I’ll catch you reviewing me again in another ten years.”

She laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll still see me here. And I hope that doesn’t change anytime soon. I’ve had a great time working with you.”

“Same to you,” he says, and she hugs him impulsively.

“I’ll be seeing you, Jensen,” she says as she walks out the door. _No, you won’t,_ he thinks, but of course it’s the last thing in the world he could say to her.

Jared is still standing outside, and he stares at the ground as Jensen approaches. The guard keeping one hand on the leash smirks a little, and Jensen wonders exactly how much they overheard.

“I’ll need to make some telephone calls,” he says, keeping his voice steady as he looks the guard in the eyes. “If you could escort Jared back to his cell until later in the day, I’d appreciate it.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Ackles,” the guard says, and Jared trips over his own feet a little as he’s led off, despite the way he’s staring at them. Jensen walks back into his office, closes and locks the door, and sits down at his desk with his head in his hands.

He knows it’s a goddamn stupid idea and it’s not going to do him any good at all, but he has to call Jeff. The anger’s not going to go away with a few laps around the gym or a few good massages from a cute kid, and it’s not going to go away at all until he gets a chance to ask Jeffrey Dean Morgan exactly what the man thinks of him. Maybe even return the favor.

He’s a little shocked when his call to Jeff is patched through immediately – not like that ever happened when he was a teenager – but his surprise is nothing at all compared to his anger, and it’s the anger that spews out on the other end of the line.

“Jensen,” Jeff says, sounding smooth and somewhat curious. “Something about the intern?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jensen snaps back. He’s amazed by how much he sounds like he’s sixteen again and how much he doesn’t care. “Maybe something about how you wanted an inside view of my evaluation so you set me up with an intern right before it started?”

“It had nothing to do with that,” Jeff replies, and the smoothness in his voice is gone. It’s hard again, determined, _don’t you take that tone of voice with me, Jensen,_ and Jensen wants to scream at him, wants to slam doors and throw things and make sure Jeff knows just how angry he is. “I had been considering an intern anyway. You needed a job. Things worked out well. I hope you don’t think I sent him to spy on you or anything so ridiculously immature.”

“You just wanted him around to make me look good?” Jensen asks, not like it matters what the answer is or even if Jeff answers him. “Make me look like a productive citizen, a real success story, so you looked good too?”

He can almost see Jeff’s shrug, the way his mouth would quirk up without any trace of humor as he answers. “You are a success story, Jensen. And at any rate, I made sure your actions wouldn’t reflect on me.”

“Right. By cutting me out of the loop and telling the fucking Department of Security and Integration that for all you knew I could be a traitor?” Jensen’s voice is pure venom, and he’s practically spitting. The phone is cradled against his left shoulder, and both hands are gripping his desk so hard his knuckles have turned white.

“That’s a two-way street,” Jeff says sharply. “You stopped talking to me, you weren’t letting me know how training was going. You didn’t want my involvement after you got out of school.”

“The school you forced me to attend,” Jensen shoots back. “It’s not like I chose this job for myself.” He knows he’s too hotheaded, knows it, but Jeff can always bring out the worst in him.

Jeff laughs at that, and it’s not a friendly sound. “You ought to be thanking me. I could very well have kept you free with that, Jensen. It’s hard to find a more model citizen than a personal trainer.”

“Well, I’m not thanking you,” Jensen says, and it’s stupid and weak and petty.

Jeff’s answer to that is simple too. “Just think about it, Jensen,” he says. “You didn’t have a lot of options. With how old you were when your parents were arrested, it’s a goddamn miracle you weren’t rehabilitated immediately just on principle. And if you’re going to spend your life fucking other people because the government tells you to, you might as well get paid for it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m considering a career change,” Jensen says before he can stop himself, and his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s just said. Jeff could do anything to him, he knows, could break his entire life with one lifted finger if he thinks Jensen’s going to drag him down.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jeff says coldly. “In that case, I won’t prolong your misery. You can consider our contract canceled. I’ll stop by tomorrow for the paperwork, and I’ll find another personal trainer for the intern and take him off your hands. You can keep the retainer fee, of course.” The line goes dead, and Jensen pounds his fist against the desk, hard, before he finally places the phone back in its stand. He fucked up this time, really fucked up, and now they’ve got to move fast.

He buzzes Alona, and she answers immediately. “Lunch again?” she asks, and he wants to slam his head into the desk for being so stupid, _so fucking stupid_ , that he can’t do anything right, can’t give himself a moment’s break.

“Uhhh, no, not yet,” he says, hating the way his voice is trembling a little. “I needed to make a call to Mr. Morgan, and I sent Jared back to his cell for the duration. If you could have someone bring him back to my office, that would be great.”

“Not a problem,” she chirps, and Jensen takes his finger off the intercom, puts his head in his hands, and allows himself the luxury of one long groan before he’s up again, moving around the office.

You take what you can carry with you, he knows. He never knew much about the underground railroad, it was never something his parents really participated in – no, they were more concerned with censorship, and that’s where he got his love of books – but he knows that much. Sooner or later, and God, he hopes it’s later, they’ll be abandoning the car. That means leaving the books behind.

He doesn’t have any sort of backpack to carry with him once he leaves the car, and it stands to reason that Jared won’t either. Jared. Jared’s going to need decent clothes, not his regulation sweats, if they’re going to make it anywhere without being stopped. Jensen’s clothes are going to be small on him, but it can’t be helped. At least the kid’s got narrow hips, he thinks, mind working at the speed of light as he examines the spare clothes he’s moved into his office, just in case. He picks the pants that he thinks have the loosest waist, throws in a hoodie that will be tight on Jared but better than one of his button-down shirts. Wraps them both in a towel before he remembers that Jared is going to need underwear too, and he pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk, crumples a pair of boxers furiously and sticks them in his pocket. It bulges a little, but there’s enough room for another two, and he’s wondering whether he should think about extra clothes and deciding it’s a dumb idea when he hears Jared and a guard at the door.

He holds the rolled-up towel and spare clothes close to his chest as he unlocks the door and lets Jared enter. Jared reaches up to unfasten his leash, but Jensen stops him. It’s still early enough that the bathroom is probably empty, and they need to take advantage of the window of opportunity before it’s gone for good.

“Not yet, Jared, okay?” he asks, and it’s clear that Jared is taking in his disheveled appearance, the bulging pockets and the near hyperventilating.

“Okay,” he says immediately, holding on to the handle of the leash instead and biting his lip as he looks Jensen in the eye. It’s obvious how nervous he is. “If this is about what the woman was saying this morning–”

“Save it, Jared,” Jensen snaps, and Jared’s mouth closes abruptly. “Look, this wasn’t supposed to happen yet, but I fucked up and plans have changed. We’ll talk about it later, but right now I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do, do you understand me?”

“I – yes, sir, I understand.” Jared’s anxiety is palpable now, his hands twisting nervously in his leash, and the tension in the air is enough to make Jensen want to have a nervous breakdown, wash his hands of it all, even call Jeff back and beg for a second chance. But he’s not getting any second chances, and he hopes to God he wouldn’t be cowardly enough to take one if it presented itself, and Jared being nervous too isn’t helping in the slightest.

“Don’t call me sir,” he snaps, and Jared nods shakily. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Okay,” Jared says softly, unsteadily.

“Okay.” Jensen leans into the door frame, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. His wallet is in his pocket. The spare clothes are wrapped in the towel. Underwear is in his pocket, the one without the wallet. Keys. He snatches the keys from their hook by the door and puts them in with the wallet. That will have to be enough.

“We’re going to walk to the bathroom, Jared,” he says. “Like we would if we were practicing bathing, okay?”

“Okay,” Jared says, and there’s a brief flash of something in his eyes like _I’m not an idiot, you know,_ but he doesn’t say it out loud and Jensen’s grateful.

“I’ll need you to carry this. Don’t let anything drop out of it.” He passes Jared the bundle of towel and clothes, and Jared takes it, letting his leash fall to dangle by his side. Jensen picks it up, leaving it slack.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” he says.

“Okay,” Jared says, and there’s a world of fear and wonder in those two syllables, but he’s not fighting Jensen on this, not yet anyway, and that’s all he can ask.

“Good. Good. We can do this,” Jensen says, more to himself than Jared, and they walk out into the hallways. The entire time, Jensen’s sure that they’ll encounter someone, or something will go terribly wrong, but it doesn’t. They see one guard, who ignores them, and they’re in the bathroom.

Someone is using one of the first stalls, and Jensen can hear the splashing water and murmured voices, but he takes a deep breath and keeps walking, putting a finger to his lips to warn Jared to keep quiet.

They walk to the back of the room, and Jensen turns one of the showers on, heavy water pressure that lands angrily on the tiled floor, loud enough to mask the noise slightly.

“We’re going through that window,” he whispers to Jared, who’s looking at him with a sudden understanding.

“You’ve been planning this,” Jared starts, but Jensen shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Not now. We’re running out of time.” He unsnaps Jared’s leash and lets it drop to the floor, kicking it under the stream of water in a symbolic gesture. He knows the moisture will crack and destroy the leather. For the meantime, it deadens the sound, as if someone’s body was blocking the water from hitting the tile instead.

He pulls the window open again, prepared for the creaking, bites his lip, and puts his hands on the sill. “I can’t make you follow me,” he says to Jared, “but I’m offering to let you come.”

Jared doesn’t ask where he’s going. “I’m coming,” he says flatly. Jensen nods, trusting that Jared won’t take off yelling for a guard, and pulls himself up onto the sill. It’s tricky sliding down to the ground outside, a longer drop than he had expected, but he makes it. When he looks back up, Jared is pushing the towel through the window after him. He tries to catch it but it untangles in midair, the jeans and hoodie landing separately. Jensen picks them up hastily as Jared jumps to join him, landing on his hands and knees.

“We’re going to my car,” Jensen tells him. “Down the path, to the left, into the parking lot. It’s the red Taurus. You’re going to get in the back seat, get your head down, and stay there until I tell you to get up.”

“Okay.” Jared doesn’t argue, just follows his quick, jerky movements across the courtyard and then his almost run across the parking lot. No one’s out there to see them, but that doesn’t stop him from being careful. You never knew when someone might appear.

Inside the car, Jared folds himself up in the back, lying in the floor space, and Jensen breathes a sigh of relief that the kid can make himself a lot more compact that he usually is. He tosses the clothes and towel over Jared’s body, and it’s a rumpled, lumpy mass that’s obviously covering something up, but Jensen really doesn’t expect anyone to take a close look at his car.

“There shouldn’t be any problems getting through the gate,” he says. “They know me well enough by now. When we’re a good ways out, I want you to put on those clothes. You can get in the front then if you want to. Just stay still.”

“Okay,” Jared’s voice answers, muffled and still tense as all hell.

“It’ll be all right, kid,” Jensen says, but he knows he won’t think so himself until he’s crossed the Rio Grande. Even then, it’s going to be an uphill climb to actually learn some Spanish, he thinks sarcastically, but that’s not something he has to worry about just yet.

They make it through the gate fine, no questions about where Jensen’s going in the middle of the day, no awkward looks into the back seat of the car. Jensen drives too fast, afraid to speak to Jared until they’re long gone, and as they go, the rhythm of the road calms him down. When they’re almost to Dallas, he pulls over at a convenience store with an ATM out front.

“You get changed into those clothes,” he says, fishing the boxers out of his pocket and tossing them into the backseat. Jared picks himself up stiffly, groaning a little as his muscles crack from an hour of the cramped position. “They’ll be a little small, but they should fit you well enough until we cross the border.”

“So… we _are_ going to Mexico,” Jared says slowly.

“Yeah,” Jensen answers. “That’s right, kid. We’re getting out of here.” He glances in the rearview mirror and sees Jared’s face. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the kid was about to burst into tears.

“I hoped so,” Jared says, and yeah, he’s about to start crying. “I really, really hoped so.” His voice breaks a little. Jensen can tell he’s still not sure he should believe this, and hell, Jensen isn’t sure he’s ready to believe it either, but they’re sitting here, and Jensen’s got to get some cash before his accounts are frozen.

“I’m getting us some money and some food,” he says, ignoring Jared’s emotions. “Like I said, you can get in the passenger seat if you want.”

He considers emptying his account, but decides that might set off alarms earlier than intended. The money won’t do him any good across the border anyway. Instead he gets just enough for supplies: four ham and cheese sandwiches, four bottles of soda, and two bags of chips. He doesn’t know how long that will last them, but he’s hoping to be in Mexico before they need to eat again. He tries to smile at the girl who rings up the food, and she ignores it, too wrapped up in her own problems to care about the customers. Perfect.

Jared is sitting in the passenger seat when he gets back to the car, one foot propped up against the dash and the dark green hoodie stretched tight across his chest.

“I don’t know how long we’ve got before they put a warrant out,” Jensen says as he hands Jared a sandwich.

Jared shrugs. “Anyone’s guess,” he says. He unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite. Jensen watches him.

“I don’t guess you know anything about getting out of the country,” Jensen says, wondering where they go from here, whether Highway 35 is really the best option, and Jared smiles nervously.

“Actually, yeah, I do,” he says, swallowing. “It’s too bad we’re so far north, because that’s going to give them longer to get a location on us. But you’re going to want to confuse them. Don’t head straight for the border. They’ll snag us easy that way.”

He speaks with easy assurance, and Jensen is well aware that listening to Jared is their best chance of getting out of the country. “So which way do we go?” he asks.

“El Paso,” Jared says immediately. “Start off heading west, but then dip down south after you pass through Abilene. If they’ve managed to track you going west, they won’t expect that, because it’ll be longer. Outside San Antonio, we can re-evaluate. Either head west again or stay south for Laredo.”

Jensen nods. He’s trusting the kid, like Jared’s trusting him, because they don’t have any other options right now. “Were your parents part of the railroad?” he asks, starting the car up again and pulling out the way he came, doubling back for the better route.

Jared smiles, but it’s not a happy smile. “My parents didn’t have anything to do with it,” he says, and Jensen frowns at that.

“You mean you landed in rehab by yourself?” he asks. It’s funny in a way, how he’s never known that about Jared, always just assumed Jared was just some poor kid who got caught up in the system because of his parents’ mistakes. It makes a difference, Jensen decides. There are other things he doesn’t know about Jared too, like the kid’s last name. He’ll ask, later.

Jared shrugs, looking out the window. “I always knew it could end up like that,” he says. “But I did what I had to do, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, “I know.” They drive for maybe twenty minutes before he speaks again.

“You know, when we get to Mexico–” and it’s very deliberate, how he says _when_ instead of _if_ , “you don’t have to stick with me.”

“I know,” Jared says. He glances over at Jensen. “But I wouldn’t mind, if you wouldn’t mind me tagging along.”

“No,” Jensen says. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

To tell the truth, Jared’s probably going to be the one taking the lead for a while now, and they both know it. Jensen is surprisingly willing to take the back seat and become the student.

There’s so much more to talk about, so much more to say, but it can wait. Right now, driving into the sun, that says enough.


	8. Deleted Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deleted scenes DO contain explicit references to rape, beating and abuse.

_August 17th, 2076_

Jared’s long legs are stretched out across the stage, and the smile on his face is completely genuine as he leads the applause following Chad’s introduction of Principal Ferris. The rest of the Student Council follows his lead, even if he notices Sophia, the Secretary, rolling her eyes at Chad. He shoots her a sympathetic look, because that probably means they’ve broken up again, and Chad probably deserved it.

Dr. Ferris’s speech—some variation of “Welcome back to another fun-filled year at Robert Singer High”—isn’t exactly riveting, but Jared’s just soaking up the novelty of his first official event as Student Body President. He’s no stranger to the spotlight, but there’s something about sitting up on stage with the rest of the Executive Council, waiting to welcome the freshmen into the high school experience and basically look like the king of the school, that somehow feels even cooler than it did last year when votes were announced and he’d beaten Milo Ventimiglia by a landslide. He’s been waiting three years for this.

Everything is going so well, in fact, that he’s practically smirking through Dr. Ferris’s speech, rather than mentally running through his own segment on effective study habits for freshmen and the location and hours of the Student Help Center. He doesn’t even notice Mr. Edlund coming up behind him until the man is whispering in his ear.

“There’s someone to see you in the office, Jared,” he says softly, and Jared just _knows_. He stiffens in his seat, idiotic grin still plastered across his face.

“Who is it?” he asks, not turning around, not taking his eyes off the sea of teenage faces in the auditorium.

Mr. Edlund hesitates, and that’s all the confirmation Jared needs.

“I’m sure they’ve just made a mistake,” his English teacher says, and he’s a shitty liar. “But it’s best if you come quietly and don’t make a fuss. Sophia or Sandy can take over for you, just for now—”

“It’s the National Guard?” Jared whispers back, still not looking at Mr. Edlund, his mind racing. Because if they have enough evidence to come for him at school, then yeah, he’s pretty much screwed. He’s already earned himself a one-way ticket to the rest of his life in chains. _Fuck_.

“Yes, and if you could just come to the office with me –” Mr. Edlund begins. Jared turns and flashes him a quick smile.

“Give me one second, Mr. Edlund, okay?” Without waiting for Mr. Edlund’s answer, which would undoubtedly have been ‘no,’ anyway, Jared springs out of his chair and strides across the stage to the podium, where Dr. Ferris is still speaking.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I need to borrow the microphone really quickly. This will only take a minute,” he says, moving up to the microphone. She moves out of the way automatically, maintaining the distance between them. Jared is relying on his hope that everyone will be too dumbfounded to stop him, and it looks like he’s right, for the time being. Because nothing like this has ever happened before, let alone with a Golden Boy like Jared, and they don’t have any idea what to do. Mr. Edlund and Dr. Ferris are staring at him in shocked silence, and Jared knows every eye in the auditorium is on him.

He grabs the microphone and addresses the students. A large part of his brain is still reeling from shock, and he feels oddly separate from his actions and words. He’s coming across as confident though, almost arrogant, and even if it’s the last thing he feels, at least he knows he believes every word.

“Hi, guys,” he says, all grin and charisma. “Most of y’all know me by now, or at least you know who I am. For anyone who doesn’t know, I’m Jared Padalecki, and I’m your Student Body President.”

There’s a brief spurt of applause, but it dies out quickly as he continues with some urgency, because he doesn’t know how much time he has.

“This is probably the last time you’ll ever see me,” he says bluntly, “so I want you to remember me. Some of you know that I write for the school paper. Well, I also write for another paper, one you probably haven’t heard of. It’s called _The Patriot_ , and I write articles about how it’s sick and wrong to enslave human beings in the name of national security. And ironically enough, I’m about to be enslaved for expressing that opinion.”

He still hasn’t gotten any reaction, but he’s got to wind it up, before the National Guard comes bursting into the auditorium, spraying tear gas indiscriminately. He knows the stories. He’s heard them firsthand.

“It’s easy to accept injustice while it’s not happening to you or someone you know,” he concludes. “But now, you can all say that you know an intern personally. Me. A human being, who went to school with you and tutored you in English and shot hoops with you. And if you think it’s wrong that I’ll spend the rest of my life as someone else’s property, as somehow less human than the rest of you, then do something about it.” He swallows hard.

“Whatever you do, make it big. I thought that the Revolution needed my words. Well, I was wrong. The Revolution doesn’t need words. It needs Molotovs. Thank you.”

He turns back around to face the rest of the Executive Council and Mr. Edlund. He guesses Milo Ventimiglia will take over as Student Body President. “Mr. Edlund, I’m ready to come with you to the office.”

\---

 _October 9th, 2076_

Jared always knew this was a possibility, that it could end up like this. Hell, he always knew it _would_ end up like this. Because that’s how it’s ended for everyone else. And it’s precisely because of that knowledge that he had to keep going.

He’s written the articles, sure. Reported on kids left homeless and hopeless after their parents were taken away in the middle of the night, about how all the community leaders bring home personal slaves to keep their beds warm, and how the slaves can be legally killed for refusing to obey. About how the state will just look the other way. But somehow he’s never quite understood the injustices he writes about. He realizes now that it’s because you can’t know the full extent of dehumanization until you live it.

After two weeks in the dormitories, a training slot opens up and he gets his own cell, complete with the isolation and the guards hovering near him any time he isn’t watching deprogramming videos or being taught proper respect for his supervisors. His superiors.

He would rather be back in the dormitories.

His cell is dark at night. There’s not much room, no windows, no lights except one flickering fluorescent light in the corridor that buzzes loudly. He wouldn’t be sleeping much anyway, he tells himself, even if the one guard – Justin, Justin’s his name – didn’t like to taunt him at night.

“Bet you’re going to make a pretty little personal intern,” Justin hisses at him as he patrols past. He always stops by Jared’s cell. “Be a waste to use you for anything else. Pretty little slut like you, with that fucking pink mouth.”

Jared doesn’t reply, just hugs his arms around his knees and buries his head in his lap, trying hard to shut out the ideas that still aren’t fully formed in his head, because he’s never really thought about that.

It doesn’t get so bad though, not so bad, aside from the occasional beating for not showing proper respect, until the night Justin’s apparently had enough of Jared being _such a little slut, such a little cocktease_. The night Justin comes into his cell.

It’s dark, but Justin leaves the door open behind him, so that the sickly fluorescent light comes in, creating a diagonal stripe across the floor and halfway up the wall. Jared’s run his fingers over the wall before, because there's really nothing else to do, and he doesn't have anything to carve his name into it. He traces the other names, wonders what happened to Tom and Katie, and feels vaguely sick at the thought, because whatever it is, he’s next. The wall looks dirtier in the light.

Justin looks at him angrily, and there’s no fucking way in the world this is going to be good. No matter how good Jared is, how obedient, how respectful.

“You want to play a little game, slut?” Justin asks, and Jared bites his lip.

“Yes, sir,” he whispers, eyeing the man's keys and handcuffs and… fucking… lead pipe. He can hurt Jared even more if he refuses.

“I thought you might,” Justin whispers back. “Thought you’d want to play with me, you little slut.”

Jared doesn’t know how to respond to that so he waits, folded up in the corner, eyes fixed somewhere behind Justin’s head.

“You know the game _Simon Says?”_ Justin asks, and Jared nods.

“Yes, sir,” he says softly.

“Well, this game is kind of like that game,” Justin says. “Only we’ll call it _Justin Says._ The rules are that you do everything I tell you to do. And if you don’t, or if you do something I didn’t tell you to do, you get punished for being the disobedient little slut you are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared responds, shivering slightly.

“Good.” Justin closes the gap between them until he’s standing over Jared's figure, definitely too close for comfort. “Justin says... take your clothes off,” he says, and Jared obeys wordlessly, standing to remove the shirt and pajama pants. He shivers a little more. Even if it’s still the summer, they keep the air on in the building, way too cold.

“Now Justin says kneel,” Justin orders, and again, Jared obeys without a sound.

“Justin says, unzip my pants.” Jared knows what’s coming, he does, and the thought is making him sick, but the thought of what else might happen is worse. Justin is the worst of the guards, he knows it, the only one who’s ever beaten him without even bothering to come up with an excuse. Jared unzips Justin’s pants. The guard is wearing boxers underneath, and one simple button later, his cock is bobbing into view, directly in front of Jared’s nose.

“Justin says suck my dick, you little slut,” Justin breathes, and Jared’s hatred is almost overpowering as he raises his head, opens his mouth, and closes it again around Justin’s cock. All he can think about is how much he wants to bite down, and how likely it is that it would get him killed. Self-preservation wins out.

He has no idea how to do this, or whether he’ll get punished for doing it wrong, but he continues, swallowing around the rough skin and shutting his eyes, pretending he’s somewhere, anywhere else. _Think about home,_ he tells himself, _think about Sandy_ , but that’s exactly the wrong thing to think and before he can stop himself he’s crying, fat tears dripping from his closed eyes down his face and over Justin’s cock. Justin’s voice stops him dead, dick still halfway in his mouth.

“You’re crying, aren’t you, slut?” He pauses, but it’s for the effect, not because he’s expecting an answer. “Uh, oh. Justin didn’t say.”


End file.
